A Dollar's Worth

                                                                              

I wait for her in the shining light,
the full moon,
its bright face
peering through the open window,
she enters our bedroom,
falling into my forgiving arms.

We stand silent,
staring into each others crying eyes;
tears stain the black marble floor.

Her trembling lips;
a hard passion left behind.
A familiar kiss that heals the wounds;
her whistled past.

So many shivering nights,
hunted by the predator after her
last dance.

Ravaged behind the alley,
raped of her free will,
tattered bills of smiling presidents
staring at her smooth,
silicone breasts.

Caressing her bruised face,
thousands of frowns reflect
in the cracked mirror late
each night.

I ask her if the sun of tomorrow will be
her last.

She never replies.