there were once two Londons:
the first was the soot dark land
where Victoria reigned
after Albert died.
she locked herself in her room
and tore all the color out of her heart
leaving only ashes and sackcloth.
propriety ruled over humor.
that was the public London.
but the second was populated with
the tattered silken colors worn by whores
that husbands found more compelling than wives
(so proper and colorless
locked into the expectation
of what a lady would never do)
and they didn’t sing—they worked and died entwined with faithless lovers
or dripping blood at the hands
of an unknown Jack
then hidden beneath the ash
that painted the town.
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