A whore of Two Cities

I am a whore,
a whore of two cities.

I was a whore there,
not a bar girl,  or go-go girl;
hips too skinny, breasts too small.
No, I did my trade on the streets;
street meat, they call it there.

An easy exchange, I know.
New land, new life
comfort, security, safety,
even affection, yes,
in return 
for giving the ’girlfriend experience’,
being the ‘traditional’ wife.
Biddable, beautiful, beddable,
they call it here.

Why, then, after a meal,
meat, potatoes, bread, carrots, cake,
do I see myself running, always running 
through the hills, back
to my father’s  hut
sitting on a mat, licking the bowl for the last drop,
his cruel beating, falling, seeing him
crouching by me, tears in his eyes?
Lush green hills do not fill the belly.

I slap my daughter, for wearing a bikini
for revealing 
what I so wanted  to hide.
This is the fashion, I am told.
It seems I have a dirty mind.
Once a whore, always a whore!

I see her laugh with her father,
show her  homework, share her hopes.
I am jealous, then ashamed.
Jealous of my own daughter!
That is shameful, even for a whore!

The neighbour smiles, I freeze with fear.
What’s his deal?
After all, I’m just a whore!

My father died.
I did not cry, phone my sister
send money to my mother.
I am a selfish heartless whore!

I might cheat, I might steal.
What do you expect, of a whore?

I read the dictionary.
A whore…..
someone who sells one’s body
sells sex
sells oneself
one’s abilities 
one’s beliefs
in a way which does not deserve respect
for money,  mainly.

Biddable, beautiful, beddable;
when memories flash and blind
I scream and harangue
just like a whore.

Or, more often,
I push down the rising vomit
and smile, sweetly.
Always the whore!

My truth, 
the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth.
This land
that land
land of poverty
land of plenty.
Land of whoredom.
Whoreland!

by Poonam Jain

Poonam Jain has always loved reading, but came late to writing. Her poems are an exploration of her own spiritual journey, as an Asian woman living in the UK, and her response to social injustice, based upon experience of social work, counselling, and of life. She performs her poems regularly, but is now seeking to have a wider audience and to build up a community to share feedback and support.Find her at http://www.poonampoems.blogspot.com