Friday, July 6, 2012

She... By Chris Chakwana

Image -

Her clothes scantily placed
cleavage out, short miniskirt; lasciviously dressed 
womanhood exposed
loose man's feelings aroused.

She moves about in search of her prey
lurking the dark city night in notes and coins
they must pay.
To quench their sexual appetite that hunger the ache of their loins.

Her face laden with too much mascara, hides her age, her past her history
her love's in a cage her past just but a mystery.

The noise she makes as she paces the quiet night with her stiletto
This darkness hides her deeds
her fear of being caught in this flagrante delicto
all her clients, loose adulterous men she has tamed
fear of the disease thrown through the window,
that wife soon to become a widow,
all in search of Her eternal pleasure.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Tuesday by Holly Day

The woman at the store is so nice to me
I almost start crying. She says, "That's a nice sweater."
She says, "Can I help you with your bags?" She says,
"I'll bet you've got something nice planned for this beautiful day."
I cling to her pleasantries; I want
To stay here with her in the cool of the department store
I want to tell her how miserable my life is
I want her to fix me. But I know

These things aren't allowed. I crack my face into a smile
Nod politely, force myself to make eye contact
Tell her, "Have a nice day!" shuffle off to the parking lot
Where my husband sits behind the wheel
Trying to read the paper over the noise of the kids
Shouting at each other in the back seat, where
I throw the groceries into the truck, strap myself into my own seat

Where my husband snaps, "What took you so long?
I thought you were just going to buy some tampons."