My Very Own Nevada Poem by Shirley Harrison

I was twenty-seven years' old

my spark gone

lost all hope in love

was drowning

in my very own

sin city



I remember

the day

and hour

my alarm clock

died willingly



I felt nothing



I didn't even notice



every hour was the same



Dark

Cold

Empty

Lonely



I pinned myself

to a bill board

on Fremont Street once



but nobody saw me



a million tiny lights

and I still didn't shine



someone once told me

if I wanted to touch the sun


I'd have to climb out

of these

my deepest darkest fires of hell



and, I finally did…

with naked feet.