12 September 2015

Leaving him

She took herself from behind the door like a coat
and ran toward neon lights that winked at her,
seeming to understand—lights of motorists
coming home from a late night picked her out;
what could she do but continue the road before her
and align the sound of her feet to it—go where flesh
is free from things, recalling a time when men
respected ladies, where though she walked the street
for money men prized her warmth, her legs; what
a way she could stiffen a man with a simple look!
Those days, enshrined in her, were behind, but she
at will ate them to sustain her quest, like bread and wine
during the Eucharist. Part of her wanted to go back
and beat his face to a pulp, but another part, a more
recent part, kept her feet going toward where the sun
was going to rise, and a message the sea sent reached
her with the freshness of salt, and a promise in life.

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