Her hoodie hides the horrors
of a ravaged mind – strewn
with garlands and bouquets –
sweet imaginings
in time spent
sprawled,
They trained in music, conversation, learned to
dance and act. Took starring roles, took
lavish salary
thrown upon an unmade
bed. Where is your legislation
now her teeth – her kids – are gone?
Is this the object of your
thrusting, the taste of things to
come?
Their words sang beyond the courtyards,
eyes glittered long after stars had blinked,
hands outstretched in welcome
She could flip burgers –
ignore stale scents and fingers dripping
grease – then, long after the burger
bar has ended, she’ll remember
the taste of evil on your
tongue.
Their hair could light a thousand ballrooms,
feet whisk a man to heaven and never
would another hurt them as
She worked the streets, her private
flat, sweated saunas,
clad in bondage for the
man who never features
in this never ending
tale.
©Carolyn Cornthwaite
Carolyn writes poetry, flash fiction, short stories and has almost completed the first draft of a novel. She dreams of Booker prizes and a life in France and blogs at http://wimpywriter.com/
Carolyn writes poetry, flash fiction, short stories and has almost completed the first draft of a novel. She dreams of Booker prizes and a life in France and blogs at http://wimpywriter.com/
