by Rochelle Mitchell
You’ve seen me working at the corner bar.
You sip your weak beer
While your bloodshot eyes follow
The seam of my fishnet stockings,
But, honey, you aren’t my type.
My friend, Sarah, who works at the blood bank,
Gives me the discarded blood,
In sterile plastic sealed containers.
She says I’m kinky
When I bite her neck or her thigh.
She coos in delight
And laughs at the truth,
Vampires are chic now.
All the rage.
The kids into the gothic scene
Wear black eye make-up on
Ghoul white faces.
You see another Goth Girl.
I am pale skin and moonlight,
With black hair and a pierced tongue.
I keep my secret safe
By hiding in plain sight.