For A Change

She sharpens her stilletos
after her last lapdance;
her life fits in a combination locker
near the back stage
where she keeps a change
of clothes and a picture
of her beautiful little girl
dressed in a Fairy costume.

The back alley is full of filthy dogs
waiting to bark their orders
for her late night menu;
she doesn't carry change,
it makes too much noise
when she runs.

They love the hunt;
their little red cocks
exposed
under the dim street lamps
lit with electric flame.

Her tattoos are like armour,
protecting the skin where she's already been scared
by her own penetration;
deeper and more powerful
than any fucking cunt of a cock.

The beauty is hers,
and they the beasts
roaming for a meal
to grip their claws upon.

She is no Queen
in the play, no Princess,
or Fairy like her Daughter,
but a Goddess of Light;
bargaining her body to the darkened.