Immortalized In Hollywood Cement

It happened a moment before sunset, quick as lightning.
Rain poured down.
She feared disaster but there was no turning back,
no secret escape, no hidden trap door.
Remembering how she got there was like being swept in a tornado,
falling to the ground, crazy dizzy, vomiting from its impact.
A reflection of a person alone and afraid.
Quiet hours spent dreaming.
Quiet hours turning into weeks, years spent dreaming,
waiting endlessly, fantasizing about what could be.
She danced without a partner, made fire without a match.
She toiled with her vision, crafting it, perfecting it,
protecting it while saturating it with tears.
It was no longer just a dream.
It happened a moment before sunset, quick as lightning
but a long time in the making.
Martina, who spent endless quiet hours waiting
was finally the Queen of Hollywood,
hand and footprints in cement,
the glory-filled utopia of ultimate success,
the ultimate revenge.
To make it was overcome lifelong fears,
oftentimes falling off the edge of morality,
excusing herself pleading insanity.
To make it was to fill herself up with
obsessive imaginings of grandeur
seeking nirvana in an upside-down playground.
The truth was in the vacant look in her eyes
casting shadows in the glare of the spotlight…

by Thea Smalley

Comments (3)

oh Gosh...to sounded for me to travel upon.
oh Gosh...to sounded for me to travel upon.
oh Gosh...to sounded for me to travel upon.