The Dancer

Dancer of the night

She wears a cross around her neck,

and I can’t guarantee what’s gonna happen next;

all of her sadness is stripped down

to the necklace that she stole.

Oh, she’s taking off her clothes,

oh, she’s dancing on that pole;

She’s got a baby sleeping at home,

oh, she’s so alone.

 

Daddy’s gone to a far away town

full of drunken horizons and hookers that he’s found.

After momma died, he fell off the wagon;

Straight shots of whiskey was all he was taken’.

Every twirl on that pole is

another dollar for her damaged soul.

She gives herself away to the night,

a face of suffering now a mask

of artificial delight.

 

Every bruise from every lover

is now covered up in disguise;

every excuse behind the wounds are

bandaged up in lies.

Oh, she’s taking off her clothes,

oh, she’s dancing on that pole;

She’s got a baby sleeping at home,

oh, she’s so alone.

 

Every bend in her hips...

every pucker to her lips...

it’s all a lie.

She’s all a lie.

She’ll always be a sinner

to keep her baby fed;

she’ll disregard her past:

what’s done is done,

what’s said is said.

 

Let me watch you when you’re

no longer in control.

Let me watch you when you’ve

abandoned that pole.

I want to see your vulnerability

while you sing your baby to sleep;

I want to watch you pad downstairs after

when you hold those dollars and weep.

Oh, she’s taking off her clothes,

oh, she’s dancing on that pole;

She’s got a baby sleeping at home,

oh, she’s so alone.

 

Don’t think you can trick me

into believing in your sexuality.

You’re no more than a lonely girl,

a sad mother who can barely twirl

to save your baby’s life.

Author's Note

Feel free to offer criticism or critiques

Reviews

[Bare trees]

A sad story I've seen and heard about too many times. Nice writing.

[Coyote Poetry]

I was station for 15 years in the Army. I was lucky and dated a few woman who danced for the cash to live. The dancers thoughts I was safe and they liked my poetry. This poem is true. Women who gave away everything but the love for child. Are very special and you create honest view and image of them. Wounded angels are still angels. Thank you Kylie for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[.]

This was so sad. The lengths people will go to nurture their children is staggering sometimes. I feel for your dancer here, Kylie. Very well written.

[Kylie Spring]

Thank-you very much :)

[Gee]

Some might say this makes her a good mother that she would resort to this to feed her child,others,well,any chance to gossip,frown upon.Really enjoyed you're(just for you) poem.