I am resubmitting this for dVerse Poetics http://dversepoets.com where fellow poet, Mark Kerstetter, share his knowledge and talent, inviting us to write from a point of view “other” than our own. I hope many of you will visit and take the challenge. Thank you, Mark.
Sweet Painted Lady
Ain’t nobody’s damn right to judge my heart,
To guess the whys of things I gotta do,
That ‘cause I walk the streets I’m just a tart.
They can’t see from my sacred point of view.
Got calluses from these damn three-inch heels.
I stink from filthy men I’m s’pposed to please
Who, with rough touches, my self-worth will steal
Then toss me crumpled bills to find release.
The haughty turn away when they pass by.
They snicker, whisper loud, “She’s sold her soul.”
But in my deep-part, truth reminds me why:
My body is not me, my spirit’s whole.
I ain’t whoring for drugs or my own joy.
His daddy split. I’m caring for my boy.