The Old Photo

Her face in the photo
       is from a world
untouched by god or man-
no shadowed demons,
no pain or artifice.
A radiant beauty,
joy brimming over.
How did it happen
that she had fallen so far?
Married at 20 to a boy she loved
       since childhood,
unfaithful to him within weeks,
and now a thing to be bandied about.

They whisper their offers
in lobbies of fine hotels,
in elegant restaurants,
at the meat counter in grocery stores,
at poolside lounging
       in deckchairs,
while having her car
       repaired.

She caters their wishes
in their great homes,
in the front seat of their cars,
at hidden spots on
       golf courses,
in the rough grass
       behind gas stations,
on secluded beaches,
dusty ranches,
private yachts,
in steamy parking lots
outside of honkytonks.
Sometimes spread on fine linen,
sometimes kneeling on asphalt.
Sometimes tied up and lashed
or displayed to a crowd.
Used for their fantasy
and wearing her bruises
       with a vacant stare.
She leaves each a piece of her lost world-
a strange innocence, a yet breathless beauty,
now just flotsam on an ocean of despair.