The Neon Ball Gown Poem by L. K. Thayer

I am the one who left
and pushed the plate away
ripped up my roots
carried the soil in my shoes
sunk in the mud holes
and stumbled without a light
to guide my wandering wiles
the one who followed
her own voice, a scream
that was music to my ears

from ten thousand lakes
to the crystal coastline
the shimmer of silver moonbeams
cut a swatch in my fabric
that led me to the neon ball gown
I curtsied for leading men
and bowed to the audience
who kept egging me on
donning a mask of provocation
eight miles wide and three flights below

here I live at arms length
away from you all
shattering myths and molding my clay
with my fingertips
again in the mud, carving a trail
too taciturn to follow
don’t come near me
I hold the locket
in the breast pocket of my coat
I bend my elbow
and massage my heart