Enter, stage left
A gossamer soul with painted wings,
she stands on the stage and dances and sings
and her audience claps at the smiles she brings.
Their phantom cheers feed the clown
that she becomes when they’re around.
But what is left when the curtain’s down?
Her laughter is sand that bleeds through the cracks
of a soul that’s been fed on whips and Jacks
and under the costume it’s all blues and blacks.
She looks in the mirror and covers her wares,
no wings, no paint for their gawks and their stares,
and they pay for her lying in leers and despairs.
The art of the eyes is her coin and her trade;
a market for watchers, where sinners are made.
It’s a dark little gig but she always gets paid.
Exit, stage right
Decks are also available on www.etsy.com/shop/PeoplePlacesYou.