Lady Luck
Black coffee tastes burnt, and cigarettes
burn too fast. What would
thinness solve? But to be worn down, pressed
dark to coal. The circles under my eyes.
A mummy, cracked and dry.
Do I want to look as scary as I feel?
A small girl with black curls smiles,
records my movements,
my look, the blue-green hair.
I want to be a mermaid, my own
pathetic fantasy. Swimming
all the time. Or Lady Luck,
escaped the wheel
she knows more horror
than rapture.
Copyright Kristina Coker
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