Who is She?

and who is she, writing upon
walls, the words streeling,
lopsided, until they drop

down to the floor and run
off to the street, capitals
and lowercase alike, the

signage liberated so that
all the words mingle and
rearrange themselves into

fresh paragraphs to assault the
eyes with their sheer audacity,
verbs upon nouns, towering

adjectives, large looming adverbs,
shot through with flashes of
color, ribbons of scarlet, splotches

of mustard yellow, cadmium blue,
rushing out to form hasty
manifestos of art for
art's sake

forget the grocery list and
the absence note, the
letter to the editor, tonight

the words will gambol like
Blake's lambs, innocent, free
to say
whatever they will