THRUM
She shakes her tired-ass butt
to the thrum of the juke,
thrusts pelvis out to g-
string in another ten dollar bill
& maybe a buck from the cheapskate
tonguing the air at bar's end.
Her dream was to be a ballet dancer,
en pointe, roses tossed at her feet.
Two babies, one divorce, later
she no longer thinks of a ballet
school opening--wouldn't mind
a win at the lottery, though.
She knows every man in the house wants her,
would pay top dollar for one night,
mouths milking her breasts,
pumping their dark dreams deep inside her.
She closes her eyes, dreams her own dreams,
not theirs, sees rose petals drifting
down through strobing lights,
sees her two daughters asleep in their beds,
legs arched, as if already leaping
into the arms of a Swan Prince.
Pris Campbell
©2007
Published in Empowerment4Women-Jan2007 issue
Art: A Rose Closes Her Mouth So She Can't Scream
by M. Anke
(I can't locate the artist for this breathtaking painting. If anyone can,
please let me know so I can write for permission. Thanks)
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