that's mrs. mediocrity to you

last night i slept in the forest of persistence
ragged tent and grey-mashed hair rippling
in the breeze of days i’ve never seen

my bed was a hammock of loss and my face
was hidden in veils of regret

but i kept one hand hanging free

at midnight the wolves set their howls
to the tune of a white mandolin

i watched the dance of forgotten flesh
fingers tapping with rapt indecision
and smiled at the harbinger’s dream

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo.

Also joining in with PAD (poem a day) over at Writer’s Digest.

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