by Luke Otley
She had come this far,
against the odds,
tottered down the long, wide road
where she walked alone amongst the smog
and muggy drone of afternoon traffic.
The wind– whipped relentlessly
across plains of scorched red sand–
found at last respite
in her folds of skirts,
which she steadied with a hand that trembled.
for powers beyond what gods could give her,
for a rough wink of movie magic,
a happy ending, and rolling credits.
Someone must have seen
She told herself as she kicked the dust
of the final corner–
must have seen–
the two eyes that she had tacked last week
into the suffered cork
behind the cracked
and misted plastic
of the notice board.