Photo Courtesy Of BigFoto
My usual style is free verse with ventures into form poetry such as haiku, tanka, and the etheree. I don’t normally write rhyme, although I have done rhyming etherees. But this piece presented itself more or less in non-metrical couplets, and all I had to do was arrange them in sequence. The Muse was most generous in sending me the lines in their entirety.
When I lived in Montreal, I saw so many lost teenage girls. Behind the heavy make-up of the prostitute was the face of a child of no more than perhaps at most fifteen. Something I recently read in a novel reminded me of that scene. How sad that our society lets this happen to its children - I used to wonder what kind of horror they were escaping at home if this life was perceived as better…
Montrealers commonly refer to rue St-Laurent, a long street which divides east from west, as “the Main.” By day, it is captivating and fascinating, and one can buy groceries or a lunch of any ethnic persuasion and do the usual shopping, etc. After 10 p.m., it turns into a nightmare…
I did not really intend this piece to be strictly metrical but rather rhythmical, and wanted to try some rhyme.
Little girl lost on rue St.-Laurent
top tugged down her breasts to flaunt,
black vinyl skirt and knee high boots -
she’s all alone, no talk of her roots.
Striding with sharp stiletto’d strut
she spends her nights in hovel and hut.
Arms gray-veined from needle and knife,
on fear and addiction she bases her life.
Prom preempted by pusher-pimp
who walks with a syphilitic limp,
she’s owned, dishonoured, and poorly kept.
How many tears has her mother wept?
On the street where daughter-dreams
are daily dashed amidst the screams
sirens are shrieking once again -
girl-child murdered on Montreal’s Main.