This poem is about a day I had at work. I missed the bright light of day for fluorescents, that day. A mood poem.
Under my slacks, I wear lace.
Beneath my blouse, I donned silk.
I rolled slithery hose, a
delinquent pattern on stretch cotton.
Strappy heels stand me higher than flats.
I painted with clear mascara, a hint of kohl, and
slick balm in lieu of red passion.
On the back wall of my mind,
I tacked a calendar. A U.S. map hangs
on my left, showing me places I’d like to be.
But no, there’s just a phone to reserve
a hotel, and I can’t go.