the changeling stood by the
hotel door
waiting to be let in
a chameleon,
a fake, a fraud
a liar in another skin.
(there is no room here for you)
water dripped from her briny
back
and formed a green puddle
on the floor.
(youcanknockforeverwewillnotopenthedoor)
what they could not see
would be obvious to you and me,
that she was acutely brilliant
in her
singularity...
in whatever form she chose to be.
RWP prompt
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Beautiful ending..
road trip
I just love this. Thee rhyme makes it hum without being intrusive.
wow.
this is a favorite my dear.
these daily poems are such a gift my friend.
love.it.
Post a Comment