Red Panties


This poem is based off an article I found that accompanied the above photo.  Exploitation of women must end!

Pattaya, a place where dark wishes can come true.

Farangs walk the streets with wallets extending

Further than their ithyphallic glee.

Blue-veined flesh rippling

Undulations of some nameless thing

Roused by another’s misery.

It was here that the

Red panties washed ashore,

Clinging to

What authorities called

Just another Thailand whore.

Like a glass ship crashing,

Flanks exposed, mostly decomposed

Cache caught in a tidal slosh.

Sun bleached human trash

With urban pests desecration dance

Through beatless chambers,

Churning, yearning, open mouthed

Bone for bone, socket to socket,

With no lashes left to hide

The loveliness behind

The blackest shadow to cross the sea.

A daughter ghost of a world

Brimming with oppression, exploitation and abuse.

Little whore/silk butterfly

pinned specimen on a mat

dripping red with silent acquiescence

of a tok khiew and a pledge

To sell a daughter’s innocence.


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