The Cross

She wore her mother’s cross for protection.
But, it would not satisfy her desperate need.
He held it in his palm and shook his head.
Addiction is a harsh master and the holder of relief
demands a price that no silver cross will satisfy.

She returned the cross to her neck, kissed it, and began to cry.

Ah, but the dealer had addictions of his own and smiled,
suggesting a transaction that might satisfy her payment.
He stared into her face and saw the glimmer of something
beautiful in her eyes as she nodded, yes.

The silver cross swayed with her body, pure in the hot air between them.
He was not a believer but still swore that one of her tears took on the shape of a cross.