I used to sit in midnight rooms
lit by dying cigarettes which glinted
off emptying champagne glasses

I used to scrawl sonnets at the bar
amidst rowdy afternoon daytrotters

Tucked soundly into solitary daydreams
I beat drums with palms
burned by the failing sun,
shook my head releasing
glittering hairs onto dusty footprints

At sundown I would paint my lips
and scorch my hair in perfect loops,
imagine myself a half-starved woman
with the most incredible appetite
for words that drew blood
and secrets that dug graves