Poetry - The Women

The Women

The women live

up and down
the street.
Each has a box
with a door.


They sell themselves.
They buy a chance.
They –
     bargain
          steal
               hope
                    pray
for the best.

They want –

      pretty
          soft
               safe.


Sometimes they win.
More often –
     slapped down
          bit
               chewed up
                    spat out
by those
designed to protect.

The women

continue to give.
Each generation,
each culture,

knead their bread.
Finds the food
to fill their bellies.

They take to their

beds. Want passion
and softness.
Some win,
get to sleep in
his arms, safe
through the night.

Some not so lucky.

Wam Bam
Thank You Ma'am.
Or worse –
     hit
          bit
               torn apart.

Lie in confusion,

in despair.

They gave it all.
Tried to hold
on to their souls.
But some gambled,
lost that too.