Warning: Hollow Sidewalks

Mignon Ariel King

Every year, theft of the baby Jesus
from his cradle on the Boston Common
outrages the citizenry. Down the street
at Copley, gnarled wood, carefully twisted
and shellacked by human hands, forms
an arch to protect in-season bouquets
for sale. This chilly spring in Back Bay
and Chinatown, neither twiggy cradles
nor elaborate displays remain, just
delivery men blocking cab stands.
The neighborhood’s fashionistas step
over a grey-blanketed obstacle to walk
caped, pedigree pugs down chic alleys
that have names. It’s no big deal, really.
She’s only another daughter of God.