The klieg-lights lighted
On these fingers that
Built up your wardrobe
These fingers, fragile
Days yet numbered
Uncatered for, worked to china brittleness
These fingers that threaded
The sequins tight into
Your Cannes dress
These fingers that worked
The roses and azaleas deep into
Your sensuous potion
These fingers that laced taut
The threads into
Your million-dollar Italian leather
But for once. Let it dawn.
In your minds. That my hands.
Do the work. That buoy you.
Up in to. The stars, bright.
Why don’t you stand up, star
Fight against this cruelty star
And help me live to become as you, a star.
« return.