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Homage to social workers

She belongs to
the corner
streets
whose whispers
never reveal
the secrets of
the owner,

streets
guard the shadow
of time
she
maiden-less
leaves her son
to the streets.

A time
so deformed,
words prostitute
themselves,
mothers
prostitute
a child's soul,

Thee Word is
silent
as necessity
bends
down
prostituting
itself.

Feminine divine
Losing her
eclipse
still night
suggesting, copulating
a pilgrim
of the night,

twisting her afro curls
accentuated
seductive moves
chases
nightly enchantment,
soul killer
empty delight.

Body traded
for the price
of kissing
her life,
reined in
the capricious horses
of passion

she lays
destiny down to
feel the slivers of pain
in dreams and when awake,
hidden pain
eyes reveal
what words conceal.

Pitiless life
making her stay
in a wild desert
smelling
black dust of body
desolated by floods
of mortal life

she heaps abet
in the abyss
of the night
living no more
survivor
of fate
alone.