Madame

there once was
a little girl
with violet eyes and a violin

who grew up to be
a celluloid Scheherazade
telling a thousand tales

of queens and fallen women
Camille
Salome

she was a peacock
a d-minor chord
a crushed velvet shawl

she was chypre
incense as dark and thick
as her hair

madame
you were the most important flower
in the garden

even when it dwindled to one
solitary
blossom

a child of the streets
who still lingers there
like the fading strains of your violin

Alla Nazimova