Madame Butterfly

“Like the tattoo,” I say,
as we lay there...after.
Nice touch – the butterfly
perched on the letter ‘M’.

At least you won’t forget
who you are,” I add,
lighting up – post-shag style.

She doesn’t answer –
not straight away.

“Yours truly designed it.
Used to fancy myself
as an artist, would you believe?
Well – what’s a girl like me got
if not her dreams?

Actually saw the opera once...
in another life. Anyway,
the name kind of stuck.
You know how it is.
Never even knew
what I was really called –
or who spawned me.

In my line of trade,
permanency don’t exist.
With lodgings as they are –
just one suitcase allowed,
at least it stops the rain
mispronouncing my name...”