PR

the day has one hour to go
and
there is no poetry in this space

curved, and bright
with shadows
and de-feminized voices
which mean business

40-year-old teenage bodies
piled in velvets and furs;
highlighted hair, husky voices
that need another smoke –

where else will a telephone call
(which will be billed)
include a lengthy conversation
on Asian versus female Elvis impersonators
and how long until the phone
rings again, her ex, ready to argue more
about the son they never should have had

and when else
but in this winter
does the sun sink stone-like
into the belly
which holds no bread?