The Sanctum of Sanity

Sunday Lunchtime Stripper

When she gracefully entered

the crude public bar

of the pub known locally

as the Piss-Hole and Star,

I thought she’d arrived from

A far distant place,

where the girls were

angelic and fairer of face

than the ones who frequented

this beer-swilling den,

this drunken abode

of insensitive men.

I thought when I saw her

there’s many a bar,

much nearer by far,

to the girl which you are,

than this loud crowd;

who drooling like dogs

thought you may be,

the perfect performer in

their sad fantasy.

Yet, when you appeared

As a stripper in chains,

You became the source

of my infinite pains.

© James Rainsford 2012


Note to readers: posted very late as my contribution to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.
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Kind regards to all at dVerse poets. James.