brothel

I knew her before she came here.Her heart like a dug-up ditch, was before as firm as a trunk.But adze-gashed in youth: What was heart was ever after raw material.(We see how the dark piles up:The wrecked ruins of a once-white temple; The ashes from a fire, long-ago-lapsed.)This is where the prostitutes line up like pigeonsSitting on a wire. Bird-thin and grim. Drugged-numb as to stitch up guarded wounds.Her eyes sag like drip-dirty...

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