Street Walker In Oslo

Street Walker in Oslo As the black-winged night occupies my balcony and spread its wings in triumph and shop lights try in vain to illuminate and gladden a grubby street I see you leaving your flat and begin your night shift As you walk past splashes of yellow light, I can see your white powdered face has not yet settled into its customary inviting grin and your lips are a machete slash where blood has coagulated into lumps long ago. Dressed in red tonight in the hope of attracting rampant lust, but since you are an old bird you are reduced to service those with a putrid need for violence, but even in your disgrace I know your heart is pure.