The New Line

DJ spinning for burning hearts
Lights go down as eyes dart
To those who walk
The catwalk.
Theatre-quality sound
Envelopes and surrounds
The hungry crowd
The models’ nerves
Are taut rubber bands.
"Act-- says the designer,
Like you’re going Somewhere!"
This is like his first show.
He’s thrown himself
Into it whole soul, hands, and head,
Bolts of fabric, miles of thread
Fashionistas, press, buyers, celebrities
Cross their legs and knot their knees
Pulsing rhythms finally cease.
He comes out dancing and popping fists
Blowing kisses to the applause.
Waving, bowing, smiling.