Her sequins sparkle in the dark room.
In poor light it’s hard to gauge
the effect and she’s dying to get
the look, shifts this way and that
like a skinny model, skirt held
in front – one of thousands
hundreds and thousands
embroidered by hand, all the rage
she knows at the end of the week
just right for a night out, off,
if only she wasn’t so tired
if they’d only let her sleep.