Sonnet to a Hooker

Eyelashes on her cheek resting themselves like petals asleep
And soft slow breathing like hmmm haaaaa hmmm haaaaa
And that wisp of hair blown up and away and down again. You would want to curl Up, around but you are not there, not really, this is just poetry. See.
That moment in time arriving as it does every day with the devastating
Smash of alarm bleeping shrill and waking and all the energy summoned now is in The name of turning it off of making it quiet again and peace and
No. Now she is really waking and remembering sleep is only for a bit and then
You have to get up before you deserve that dumb heavy lifting or falling
Again that
She imagines in the day like sinking into a cloud.
Dark
That she can dispel with light that is in her power just lifting pulling at the curtains The sun is setting like egg yolk in oil and the room and her mood brighten
Enough to make her hungry.
A roughening sound as she drags the bone handled knife across brown toast Butter butter bite. Small straight teeth crisp dry awake.
Sheathed in favoured fabrics that make her feel rich, velvet, silk, cashmere.
Never mind where. Lipgloss and kohl under her eyes and
Mascara hugging her eyelashes kissing her cheeks with blush now ready and safe And hard as nails. Painted slowly redly neat.
The radio talking news to the flat like there’s someone there but now she’s gone, Muffled in a fur coat stalking in stiletto boots and slamming the door LOCK. Busy Day a list of jobs like a bank
Statement.