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
ungraspable

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

but

the greatest calamity of all

is that you feel at home

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