Sticky tones offer
no solace
to a girl who thought she loved music.
Inconvenience is the enemy
of luck
and so of imagined possibility,
so of self. I am
frustrated by eyes that sag
to tell folks
of my tired burdens.
So I’ll glue false eyelashes
to my slick skin
and yell, “I am not happly here.”
A songbird no longer
interested
in singing.
