KarMel Scholarship 2008

 

Poem

“The Cut”

By Collette Earnest

 

 

 

Desciption of Submission: “A poem describing the transvestite red-light district. This poem sheds light on how society often rebukes what they believe to be obviously wrong but ignore what is before them” - Collette

 

 

Trapped in gutters, sitting on dirt-gum sidewalks

I kick my heels off and pad through streets in torn

stalkings. In the cavern of cold alleys are queens

half awake or strung-out on crooked eye-lashes blinking

in the flashing florescent. Cans blaze where large hands

adorned with plastic rings warm up. Fur jackets bristle

in breezes and chipped fingernails melt.  

 

Hiding within dark mirrored cars are men, sweat

dripping upon their white collars. Briefcases are clutched

between shaking knees. They lick their lips like wolves,

pockets filled with wads of dollars. Drooling. Sauntering,

these broken women limp forward, droop their broad

frames over the windows. Lipstick a shade of denial-is-lethal

red, eye shadow an abused-raspberry blue.

 

Cigarettes, wringed with a greasy pink line gather in ashtrays.

Hair is tangled, styled beneath bathroom blow dryers, small

clothing stained and strained to fit. Veins crawl along

hands that can never be altered, puffed lips curl in a vicious

smile. This is the throne, the cool leather sucking at her thighs.

There is no jester playing games in court, reciting truths hidden

in coy jokes.

 

These half-men are wrung from the towel before it is

thrown out. Tossed upon the cobblestones, they lurk second

hand stores reaching for mini skirts and used cosmetics.

Women locked into a body who betrays them, bolted

into a system which condemns them.

 

Those wolves in their Cadillac cages will return

to suburban castles complete with a Betty Crocker

wife—two children playing in the watered grass.

Escaping the cold wasteland they condemn.

 

I stand barefoot in their dim-lit paradise cursing

the cruel creator.

 

 

 

 

Back