The State You're In

Look now, the midnight wind is laughing
because you are wild-eyed crying over something
you want but can’t have and have
but don’t want.

Did you think it’d be so cold
when the snow is melting in rivulets to the gutters
and the sky is breaking and sometimes, even though
it is still January, the sun
pokes its head through the ashen clouds
to get a better look at you -- The Fool

who thought she could take on a king, become more
than a bitter little girl, ex-con and ex-
rambler, dozing on roadsides and popping pills
while the fortunate ones and this king in particular

cruised past in their sleek silver
cars, speed of light, while you
tasted exhaust and felt the dust, that old grit in your teeth, coming out
your pores and spilling over onto the earth, filling in
your footsteps and washing them away.

Stay in. Listen.
The wind is crossing over, coming through your screen
and the laughter is fading. I hear a whisper.

It says your name, and it sighs.