cog

He says I’m nothing
but a goddamn whore, and its true
I take his money, in the soft fold
of touch, I let his hungry mouth
onto mine, allow his searching hands
to feel the topography of my body
and it is a grim reality; I prostitute
my affections and he is greedy, he wants
and wants more, he is not content
ever, he wants woman, he will take it
when he can, he will take it from me
because he knows I have nothing else
and my own want is stronger
money, that cursed root, into which
nothing can grow, it unfurls itself as a
painful and knotted spine, that branch
lifting from the dirt, reaching desperately
and uselessly towards the sky

Originally published in Mannequin Envy

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