Mrs. Imaginary Mohawk

by Saerelune   Jun 15, 2014


Neat girl sits with crossed legs,
a napkin across her lap, hiding her
imaginary dress, mottled with flowers,
(for girls are supposed to adore petals),
pluck and pluck till love rests in her palms.

Some day she will lie again, something about
the imaginary tattoo crowning her wrists,
cuffs created from disapproved spit.

And as she pours tea for the elderly,
her hair's elegantly swept to the side,
exposing a naked cheek, like if she proceeded
shaving half of her head, dying the dark side
a midnight blue, the hue of taboo.

They never asked if she'd worn insanity,
the rags of her shadow tucked safely
in the asylum, drenched in insomnia.

At night she reveals sleeping pills
from underneath her tongue,
puts them beneath a pillow
so that fate might bring her a dime or two
to buy her another round of dreams.

04/2014

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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by Maple Tree

    I read this poem three times. Each time I got a bit more out of it.. I adore Saerlune's writing style, its very unique and creative.

    I have to be honest and say the title is what captivated me and that is what can make or break a poem for me in many cases. I am a firm believer in making your title stand out and she did that and much more.

    I felt a rebellious nature within this poem and that is another reason why I was drawn to this poem. Very colorful word usage here and the metaphors were just delightful!!

  • 11 years ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    Judging comment:

    Right away, I had a particular image of this young girl living two lives, one for the world versus how she truly acts and feels without any influences or pressures from outside. The opening images actually reminded me of the character Rose from Titanic, and how she grew up and was expected to sit at dinner parties and have polished manners to be a "lady". This poem took on a darker tone for me with the fourth stanza, as it created a real questioning of what she had endured, alone, without someone ever tending to what was wrong. I saw that "imaginary" was repeated quite a few times in the poem which led me to believe how insecure this girl was, or how hopeless that love will be real, or her heart will truly be loved. The ending was a bit morose, that she relied on sleeping pills, that nothing else could be her companion almost, that it was the only way she could be at peace. A unique story you have shared here, well-penned. (7)

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