Smut

Bright lights
danced
in tune
with the saxophone.

On and off.
Off and on.

Stripping
to the hymn
of the malicious
crowd,
her sensuality
flirted
with the smell
of cigar,
alcohol,
and cash.

She was
the modern-day
Cleopatra
and she bathed
not in milk and honey

but in stares and heckles.

The prey
of lustful predators,
between her thighs
was the stage
of countless
erotic bed scenes.

All paid.
All scripted.
All false.


A queen
whose castle
was the brothel.

A goddess
whose kingdom
was the red light district.


Day in
and day out,
she was a star
who earned
a living
through her exhausted
pearl.


The lips
that weakened
the policeman's knees.

The hips
that drained
the politician's pockets.

The legs
that toppled
the engineer's tower.

The breasts
that fed
the husband's child.

The hands
that romanced
the blind man's senses.



She was Cleopatra.



My unseen Cleopatra.





My beloved wife.