The Sun Is Poison
I am lonely
on the brown futon
with nothing but the wind beside me.
Selling sex in short dresses in heels.
What kind of life is that?
Here in my office,
the cardinal cries
and I listen
with eyes turned inward.
What do I see?
A girl,
lost
in the darkness of men,
unsure of her worth,
desperate to know love
like a sea clam closing
before she can climb inside.
Oh child,
with the painted eyes,
you are not so grown up,
as you think.
Let down your hair and walk
in the garden
with the rain.
The sun is poison.
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