It’s hump day, and she’s gotta say
the piling up challenges of this desert place
are starting to make her crazy. She’s
dotted all the i’s and crossed more
than t’s and tried to please the masses
and the mob. She’s sobbed a little and
prayed some, too. Pricked herself
silly trying to sew contentment and
hope into the s(t)eam of her own skin.
She’s worn a little thin and torn a few
too many pages from this burned-out sky.
Give her a smallish dragon song, a way
to bleed out hope. A penny (candy) for
her thoughts. A rope of clouds to bring the
scent of rain. A quiet sigh. A wine cork moon.
Prompted by Poetic Asides.