Holly

Before a stranger she pleads, the sound of a removal van, destroys any sense of ease, her offering is a moan, who could fault her tan, each song rings like doom, that intones she's not free, the bars are full of men, does it matter on your knees, without ships or their groans, she looks deadpan, at empty faces crushed bones, now chained prays and keens, inwardly says walk with elan, i'll die at this scene, that sweet insouciant breeze, in the prisonhouse by chance, her face folds in creases, begs for a dance.