The Prostitute

girl of wide hips like mountains
you have carried men
and babies have slithered out of you

you yearn for plainness
but instead you get tacky clothes
and layers of makeup
that you wear like a mask

your childhood slipped away
like water through your fingers

you wait abnegated
for what comes next
your misfortune has turned you
into an old soul already

life was stolen from you
it sits on a man’s head
and you belong to him

night after long night
the silver moon witnesses
the damnation that replaced
your unworldliness

when you parted ways with daytime
and your eyes ceased to see daylight


the greatest calamity of all

is that you feel at home


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s