HOOLYWOOD

Stars,
hang in the balance forever-
for an answer.

I will take a shower,
leave you on hold-
purple prose of my curtains
promise.

Sometimes I strut
peacock stuff on stage,
my vaudeville cloakroom.

Trunk overloaded with heavy costume.

When the Runes are right I answer
a role, between vodkas.

The cameras will whirr.
On the boards, stains
left by my ivory feet.