What is Costs (Pay the Poets)

Pay me.

 

I know you want me.         

Pay 

me.

Pay me 

for the service I provide.

 

It’s the gig economy.

It’s the service industry.

 

Oh, money, money,

its so dirty!           

Is that why everybody wants it?

It pays 

for all the pretty things—

it’s a pretty thing itself,

ain’t it, baby?

 

Shiny   tangy    salty-sweet—

five seconds in the dirt,

you can still put it in your mouth 

(if you take it out of mine), cuz it’s       

still clean

 

still     pretty    clean     

still    mostly    clean

and you want it clean     

 

                                    and you want it dirty

 

and you want it     

 

                                   and you want me--

 

pay me.

 

Pay me for my pretty, dirty act.

Pay me when I get up off my back,

do this dance. Pay me 

when I pull it out for you.

Pay me for the heart I break for you. 

Pay me!

It’s the least that you can do!

 

I’m the Uber of your dreams

I can drive you to your knees--

                                              pay me.

 

Tap the app and I’ll deliver

feed your head and fry your liver.

                                              Pay me.

 

If you want it, well I got it,

you come sniffin’ for a treat,

but I too have mouths to feed,

holes to fill and hands that need

and it isn’t filthy greed it’s that I bleed.

 

And I am hungry. As you’re hungry.

It’s a simple quid pro quo.     

It’s not personal, no--

 

it’s just business

business as usual, no

funny business not

givin’ you the business, it’s a

goin outta business sale—

              

half-price,    

half-price,

fire sale,   

fire damage,   

smoke damage--

 

smoke 

and mirrors

and damage—

                                

you pay--

you pay to see the                      

damage--

 

and I got it

and I’ll show it

and I’ll shake it

but not for free—

 

none of this is free--  

       

if I had to pay 

and pay 

and pay for my

damage,

so do you.

 

Expensive damage.

Pretty, shiny, dirty damage.

Put it in your mouth,

take it outta mine,

roll it on your tongue,

tastes like wine and cigarettes

and blood and everything I pull out,

and everything I stuff in,

and everything I paid for---

bought and paid for—I got overhead, baby—

 

fuckin’ 

pay me.

 


Jennifer Maloney is a poet, playwright and performer based in Rochester, NY. A former sex worker and a sober addict, read her work at Anti-Heroin Chic, SHIFT: A Publication of MTSU Write,  Aaduna.org, Ghost City Review, Celebratingchange.blog, The Pangolin Review, Memoryhouse Magazine and other literary publications including several anthologies. Jennifer stays grateful so she can stay sober, and still feels all the things.

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