In Soho

It is raining tonight,

street lights capture shadows

dark as the night itself.

There is sound, the clatter

of high heels tip tapping

to the beat of illicit barter.

A calm before the storm.

Above, three floors up,

rain sheltered, a predator

is on patrol. Cruel eyed,

fingers tip tapping 

on the rusted balcony.

He is counting the profit,

uncaring she is counting the loss. 

Soon then, there is only the 

sound of temporal appetite.

The flicker frame images

of make believe passion,

blurred by the tear drop

rivulets of rain, that run

like silver streaked veins,

down the watching,

waiting, window panes.

Time seemed interminable,

insensate to her needs;

The last man to leave

cast in stone with the 

dying ember of his desire,

that slowly melts, 

then flows like liquid fire;

burning into her soul.

Alone now, small change

slipping through her fingers,

she counts the cost.

"a spoonful of sugar

would have been nice"

she says, "coffee without

is like a martini with no olive."

This said to no-one in particular.

Reviews

[Crowley]

Beccy, this is a masterpiece. Desperation, cruelty, need, dissatisfaction and a backdrop like oppressive arms folded about a grandmothers shoulders slowly squeezing. You set this up perfectly, moved it forward perfectly and killed it with the last scene. One of my faves of yours.

[barleygirl]

I've been reading Stephen King's "On Writing" & he puts a high value on being able to craft a short phrase that explodes in the reader's head, creating a ton of imagery from the reader's experience of such situations. You do that constantly here: "illicit barter" . . . "he counts profit/she counts loss" . . . "temporal appetite" . . . these kinds of phrases practically tell an entire mini-story. I also love how you use the concept of "cost" as a unifying thread thru-out your message (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

This is bleak but beautiful. The despair must be incalculable, the cost far too great to measure. You wrote with such refined beauty and grace.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Beccy... I commend you for addressing the lifestyle of a
desperate woman ... if only our world could protect the
potential of so many of the less fortunate. truly, Pat

[Kelly Scheppers]

I wish there was a way to bring recognition to a deserving poem/poet, for far too often, good poetry gets overlooked and doesn't garnish the accolades that others do. And this, this is most deserving!

[Beccy]

Thank you so much Kelly for you lovely words. I have been writing poetry since I was a child; pretty much mostly for my enjoyment, (but no starving garret for me,) :))
And may I add, that the recognition and interaction I get from my fellow poets at this wonderful forum is more than enough for me.

Beccy.

[R.E. Ray]

This is a scene so real and tragic in the United States, urban and rural areas alike. Poverty, abusive homes and drug addiction have driven young women into the arms of predator-pimps and their pathetic customers who exploit these women for money, often leaving them broken and diseased. What you've captured here, triggering all senses, is the tragedy that spans generations and continents. An exceptionally well-written piece, Beccy.

[Eilis]

Your last line makes it all ring for me. The loneliness of it all is hard to bear. Even the predatory gaze of the man watching from above is a signal of loneliness (alienation) in its own way.

Adulthood often seems to me to be an exercise in warping. The way so many hide behind certain facades and then the ones who are out there in the open living in a kind of solitude that pushes against the bounds of being human. Connection is so important, and here she is giving of herself over and over only to be left feeling untethered to anyone.

I was reading last week of lawmakers thinking of decriminalizing sex work in my country. I was a little baffled by this because people being pulled into the trade against their will seems to be at a high point from what I understand. Still not sure how to approach a balanced understanding on the matter. It’s a complex topic you’ve offered for us here, Beccy. And you’ve offered a sensitive portrait of a person (a lifestyle) that can easily be dismissed or overlooked due to our own misunderstanding.

[emmajoy]

' .. Alone now, small change - slipping through her fingers, - she counts the cost.'

Even those wealthy enough to live in their self.imposed high places could whisper, 'I agree.' to that taken phrase, Beccy!

You have such style and diplomacy; would welcome you into Downing street!

Your poem paints a series of clear as clear scenes that bring human life into a spotlight, made the heart of the She shine more than some would have. You see the being rather than the lifestyle, you feel the loneliness set in the once lamb's clothing. Dear goodness, how beautifully you paint.. could read this over and over. That final line is near heart-breaking.. ..

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is so good...and what a portrait, at least to me...of a woman of the night....making a few bucks but having the coffee without the sweetener...and making love without the love...

her heart stabbed like an olive by a toothpick.

powerful write that gets us to the scene and also directly into her thoughts...

[Terpsichore]

A difficult subject, treated with a combination of delicacy and dignity. The last verse and that final line, hit home like the hammer of Thor.

T.