Nailed To a Cross
She nailed the floorboards
with the sharp edges,
the remaining shards
of her soul. She was shattered.
The crystal-meth sucked
her flesh down to bone.
Her breasts were raisins,
her legs tiny pricks,
and yet she walked
the walk, she swayed
her hips to catch the eye
of any man willing to pay.
And at home, each day,
before her necessary work,
she continued to nail
her soul to the floorboards
and pray to a splintered cross.
Copyright © Dean Walker | Year Posted 2007
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