It must be manifested,
In my mind’s eye,
My calves to my red toes are due for a reprieve.
In an open space,
Distressed blue walls caving in,
Slinking into satin weave,
A single monochromatic bell sounds,
A white lamb’s rug comforts my skin,
Small bronze votive burning candle,
the scent of sandalwood,
my body gently resting to the side
my eye of eyes observing the scene.
It must be at the time the sun hits the horizon.
Shutter closed routine,
A deep moment of satisfaction.
the deep curve of my calves,
the plumpness of the muscle,
and the sheen of my lacquered red toes
hidden in red sole stilettos,
Tonight’s alter ego, Rose.