In listless night of man-made stars
She dons the cloak of decadence,
Of coruscating baubles and silky threads
To obscure her trembling diffidence.
Sequins and tinsel distracting from despair.
Sibilant retorts and razor-blade sarcasm,
These words of lightning her desperate refuge,
Attempting to disguise her quaking voice.
Gelid, she scrapes along this arena of dissonance-
Of caterwauling flowers and butterflies of stainless steel-
Though sanded Face of Wood reveals no emotion,
It is a cruel mistake to assume she does not feel.