Her Life

by Jennifer Polhemus

Before the dam between sanity
and reality burst, like
a jaw ripping from its joint,
there was a misty tune
in the pit of her brain
floating in a coma,
a note without words
a teeny chirp without a bird
an inn without linens
or guests, or breakfast with sweet, black coffee.

She gropes along a web of hope
ribs and liver – edgy –
like the drag of the Zodiac
around her dizzy years.

What becomes of her aloha days
and fast axel nights?
Closing her lids
against the joke,
She slips a spoon into her parfait
and calls it quits for the day.

Neat little runt of a life,
who votes you into office?
No, she is not the one.

From: 
Jennifer Polhemus

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