Old

[c0astal]

Blue velvet curtains
closed, hold back the light
so she can tremble
in this hotel-room night

arms knit tightly
wound around her lank frame
some spilt vodka
on her dress leaves a stain
it wasn’t easy enough
to drown out real pain

she’s made up her face
near twice in an hour
yet sits in a corner
back bent to cower
knees pressed up against
the sides of the shower

a hurried song she whistles
to feel less alone
but her faith is unsteady
and fear has grown