Desire

Three o'clock in the morning
coffee pot on the boil
catching her reflection in the mirror
reflecting back her life

Her figure lost amongst the madding crowd
on the street corner named desire

Working the streets
night after night
now twenty years on
she has no desire
not even for sleep
as the demons haunt her nights
the coffee pot is her best friend
helping feed her needs
keeping her awake
away from the demons of her past

Glancing around the room
she sees him
behind the glass frame
tall and handsome
she still desires the feelings
he gave her when
high society was her middle name
nobility rubbed shoulders with her
money oozed from her pores
desire took over her soul
wanting more
not meeting demands
plagued by parasites
that drank her dry
like an arid desert

Taking to the streets
that night
she named her corner desire

Turning away from her reflection
tears stain her grubby face
shuffling across the stone floor
she pours her coffee
looking out of the window
onto her street corner
named desire

Copyright Karen Canning