Bad luck decorates her branches

flashing on and off
like
 strings of lights
on a holiday tree.

Misfortune glows

as if fueled by noonday sun

under cloudless sky.
Each day she longs

for someone who might notice,

turn some switch
dim the lights
pull a plug
and
 diminish her pain.
No hero lurks nearby
on prancing steed.

Don’t filaments fray

and bulbs fail to ignite

one more time?