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The Dancer

Tags: dancer


The Dancer


Dancing for dollars over whistles and hollers,
showing skin from her head to her toes –
she was Friday night’s rage on a drab smoky stage,
tucking bills in the band of her hose.

The job was no treasure and it brought her no pleasure,
only tips and some offers for trade,
a tender for sin from lascivious men –
but alas, there were bills to be paid.

Departure was swift at the end of her shift –
to escape from the smoke and the fray,
she’d part from all that for a single-room flat
that she rented a few blocks away.

The short lonely trek gave her time to reflect,
time to ponder the fruits of her choices –
the future she’d see as the least she could be,
in the tone of her mom’s and dad’s voices.

Her greatest regret – that her father, a vet
didn’t want to be part of her world –
though at times, her decision didn’t match her dad’s vision,
she would still be his same little girl.

It fueled the divide when she found herself tied
to a lifestyle he’d never condone,
when out of the black, she heard steps in her track
in a rhythm not quite like her own.

She couldn’t be sure that her senses were pure
or impaired by her fear of the dark,
so she picked up her pace, looking back for a face –
took the shortcut ahead through the park.

The moon’s subtle light only softened the night
from its black to a pale shade of gray –
the best she could get was a faint silhouette
that appeared to be headed her way.

Fearing her fate, she was at a full gate
in a panic and hoping her stalker
was none of the kind, it was all in her mind –
nothing more than an innocent walker.

She started to slow with a block left to go –
feeling safe that her flat was in sight,
when a knife in her back, the first sign of attack,
would confirm the degree of her plight.

The sight of the knife made her fear for her life,
she was helpless with options so few –
as she dropped to her knees and delivered her pleas,
her desire to survive only grew.

Before she could shout, several gunshots rang out
and her enemy fell to the ground
and behind him, a man with an outreaching hand,
who’d approached without making a sound.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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