Call Girl

she stayed
     for a moment

with an arm
draped over by the shadow of a curtain
a dress folded in a half
in the crook of an elbow

      one of her cheek twitches

you touch her empty mouth
tangled up beneath the covers
her lipstick gets under your skin
a nerve irritated by the shape of a lace

half an hour tops not longer
you kiss her onto the lips eventually
jamming a tongue up the tonsils

       in the end a whore is just a whore