Sonja Anderson

Night Woman

She is the brightest thing

In the dark haze of this room

With her wet skin bare

And her mind afire

They pretend

That they are better than she

Even as they desperately need her

To push out their demons

So she laughs

As she takes their folded bills

Because they love her in spite

And their suits are no masks

She plays with them

Power in her nakedness

As the dirt of her trade

Pulses in their wrists

Puppets, dangling on flossy strings

Glued to every twisting dance