The Night Theatre

I watched my sister every night

Before the mirror she sat,

Dressed all in skimpy clothes,

Topped with a red silk hat.


She stayed out all night

But returned every morning

With food aplenty for the table

And sacks of coal for burning.


She told me she was an actress

At a theatre that hates the day

‘The best shows come on at night,’ she said

‘When the wolves come out to play.’


Later she found me all dressed up

With rouge upon my lips

Shadowed eyes, shimmered cheeks,

And painted finger tips.


‘I’m coming with you!’ I chirped,

‘I’ve tickets for the show,’

‘A man came here earlier,’

‘Said I’d have a place in the front row.’


Ready to leave, I went to the door,

But my sister got there first

With teary eyes she turned the lock

As I cried and screamed and cursed.


Witching hour: the door fell open,

And my sister stumbled through,

Her clothes were ripped and torn,

And her skin was black and blue.


Before her soul departed she whispered,

‘My love, I had no choice.’

‘Let me tell you just one thing, dear sister,’

‘Stay away from boys.’