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bitter circus

Jack Henry

short skirt, black heels,
a voice an octave too low -
her head hangs down in a
drink that never empties

ah, the bitter circus,
back in town,
she’s at center ring,
fighting for attention

faces never linger, pause
or offer simple explanation -
they reflect, biometric
calculations,
tasks toward survival -
a means to an inglorious end

we speak in fragments,
lost amidst ruins,
reclamation for the rich
while the poor suck up dust

heat rises through
scarlet foundations,
whip snap anecdotes
on a welfare check -
she twitches slightly,
Morse code dot & dash
signs of life

love bleeds black
in a starving belly -
her eyes glazed over,
drinking w/the dead
for now she is alive

i say hello in a
muted salutation,
she smiles thin
and bleak
knowing the offer
about to come

we find darkness
in a stall of a
public restroom,
i fuck her without
passion - it only makes
breathing worse

she hangs her head low,
another drink,
never ending,
we part without comfort -
alone again and
not transformed

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