jasmine

This poem was part of a series or theme I submitted for a nation-wide poetry competition many years back. It was based on actual people and experiences I encountered while living in a part of the city core area in the late 70's, a neighbourhood with a reputation that was not too pleasant at that time.

pencil sketch by dsnake1



jasmine



jasmine squatted with her friends
at the stair landing,
spiking her cigarette
with heroin,
pushing the white stuff in
with a ear-pick.

jasmine, not yet eighteen,
was pretty, even
in harsh fluorescent lights
but her eyes
spoke with a fury
darker than this night.

soon after her fix,
she would go down these stairs
and hail a taxi
to the cabaret,
to a world of masks
where she works.

you think i wanted this life,
she would ask me
let those lechers touch me?
no, she's in for the money,
where can she go,
not the factories?

it would not feed her family,
her useless junkie boyfriend.
there were always almost tears
in those mascaraed eyes.
that's why she smokes the smack
trying to forget the pain, the shame.

and carrying the weight
of her world on those
rounded shoulders
she stood up,
straightened her skirt
and walked down those grimy stairs

in her stilettos,
in clothes
that were not meant
for her age.



written : 03/09/2006
revised : 15/08/2011
revised : 03/10/2011
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to jasmine, wherever she may be.

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"And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I'm spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide. "

-- Pink Floyd, The Final Cut

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019