Slattern-Angel

  
 
she’s a wink & a smile  
if the cash is right, she’s the party  
she’s the kiss-off when the money’s gone  
 
she is made of sparkling champagne & hard drugs  
bitter candy & illicit French postcards  
she has the flair of a chanteuse  
& the acumen of a courtesan  
 
if you’re a man, you want to possess her  
recklessly, you would abandon your faith & your woman  
for the taunt of her flirt & the winsome sway of her skirt  
& when you’ve been used & rejected  
you want to beat her & rape her  
you think about killing her  
but you think harder about killing yourself –  
& maybe you will  
 
(maybe a young girl, long & long ago, wanted to be good  
& maybe a journal, its pages vitiated by secrets,  
secrets she’ll take to her grave)  
 
she scripts & produces & plays the goddess in her  
forbidden fantasies. she spreads out naked on the  
banquet table; she is the feast & the melting dessert,  
lavished in cherries & whipped cream  
she is the dream & the demise of the dream  
& she is a star –  
 
dolorous star in a muddy heaven  
 
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