I SELL FLESH NO MORE
Gone were the days When men swarmed her hut, And passed metamorphic nights. She was a peerless beauty, Tall and stout, and an elusive broad smile Always stuck her. Body shapely and muscular, eyes, large And liquid, Hair long, thick and black, and Men bought gifts night and day. Traces of beauty still she holds, But her old suitors tread her yard no more. At times a few drunken strangers visit her. She then shriek, ‘I sell flesh no more,’ And drive the strangers out, But clients she can’t dissuade thus. So she hung