Silver sequins from a 1920's flapper dress
The material is rotten,
the sequins fall in a closet dark
Just like stars, a glittery mess
Or a fishes scales Sunday supper caught,
the lures they use, so tempting,
left without her gown
Stark,
Oh my stars, I think it may be a rainbow trout
Naked, clothes strewn alluring bait
Comparison that stinks, leaving doubt,
Left in a closet dark with no mate.
