Body Traffic At the Pink Flamingo Motel – Lois Roma-Deeley

Lois Roma-Deeley

A knock and Body opens the door
lets the stranger in —
Does it matter who
got bought? what gets sold?
Here in this airless room
of broken windows and broken lives,
hands weep, wounds snicker
while the stained mattress and stifled cries
just fill and fill
the unknown
corners of Body’s empty room —
who or what passes through
doesn’t linger, never stays. Inside of Body
there is no siren’s wail, just the sinner’s prayer
of one who is not, who has never been
home.

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