Whore

Whore

Her night at last ended.

Gay flirtatious dancing, touching,

groping, raucous laughter.

She climbs to her third floor cave

Body aching, she knows she sags.

Face lined, shoulders falling, eys dulled.

Her dress hangs on her.

limply, no longer provocative.

She has sold her meat. Transactions completed.

Buyers have consumed it. She no longer cares about it.

If she ever did.

Does a butcher feel attachment

to his chops? Miss them?

Inside. Safe, different, haven.

Sleeping child, clucking sitter departs.

She gazes and a tenderness wells from so deep a place;

She crumples to the side of the child.

The room offers a dream of a child’s life.

Fantasy toys, pictures, gaiety of a different sort.

A black wall falls before her – Knowing.

She must bathe away the filth of her night.

Scrubbing until her flesh is raw.

Then sleep – deep – and

Dreams of pastures,

hills and

flowers