Siren's Lament

She leans back
in her tall birdcage rocker.
There’s caution on her lips.
She’s amped for a fight that’s hovering
on the peripherals of her tiny abode.
Her memories are packed tightly
behind her seasoned bedroom eyes.
A living stone with a fighter’s spirit.
She smiles with regret,
reciting a solitary tale of heartache
like so many other sirens before her.
Her words bounce from ceiling to floor
and back again.
If only they’d stick…
or cling helplessly
to the awkward wallpaper and dilapidated curtains.
She sighs deeply,
finding no truth in the hollow exhale.
The wind shooting through her lips
is but a momentarily distraction
from her tarnished days
and the bouts of anger coursing through her.

A warm breeze straddles her home,
whispering through her opened window…
enveloping her.
She stands,
tiny linen adorned legs
wading in a sea of anxiety.
She walks over,
crumpled toes caressing sullied porcelain tile
huffing under her breath
as she slams the window shut.