I see through Mimi—I see through her tragedies
and I see through the subtle cosmetics
of her tired face.
(She bore a still-born bastard once,
the man she loves, a black-eyed corporal
has shell-shock and nigh throttled her in bed).
And Mimi la Brunette, each crimson evening
peals in half falsetto notes,
sways her silver serpent arms