I sat in Meng’s weary, waiting <br />dusk long since descended <br />nightfall now master of the sky <br />with wind blown snow <br />swirling chaos into perfection. <br />And finally Mabel Muldoon trudged in <br />with eight children from her belly <br />aching for the return of daddy <br />who got caught robbing a liquor store <br />so he could buy Christmas presents <br />worthy of Mr. Michael Muldoon. <br />Now Mabel sold herself <br />to raise bail, but unable to succeed. <br />Not because she wasn’t good-looking <br />but would only lie there <br />weary, waiting until lust unraveled. <br />Al Hoppe went with Mabel <br />but her sadness and his sadness <br />shut down desire. <br />“Thirty years of whores, Bernstein, ” he said <br />staring hard at me with “I’m finished.” <br />Mabel plopped at my table. <br />“Empty streets, ” she sighed. <br />“A night like this, ” I said. <br />“Cold.” <br />“Cold.” <br />And I wiped the wetness from her cheeks. <br />“Wish I had a million dollars.” <br />And I wished for words.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wound-gaping-wide/
