(from In the Shadow of my Pen: A Collection of Poetry and Prose)
Unsplash Image by David Hofmann
When she steps on to that stage, no one knows her name.
She is a private dancer, not looking for fame.
In stiletto heels, she pouts her lips.
The men watch, and some throw her tips.
A bead of sweat forms between her breasts she pretends to be enjoying this game as she gyrates her hips in time with the music.
When it ends, she leaves the stage and these men with their peering eyes behind.
It is cold as she steps out into the rain.
Tomorrow night she will do it all again, a private dancer, but no one knows her name.
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In the Shadow of my Pen 