Hand Made

Sweat drips from little dust covered faces in the grim back-alley factories No time for rites of passage other than fingers nimble enough to spin and Balance wheel spool spin and stitch regulator to their master’s instruction Anyana is not unique but one of the ‘fortunate’ ones Gloved hands mop up droplets of perspiration from a lace veil and seduce A myriad of lovers before she even enters an intricate parquet dance floor Takes a cue from the orchestra and whirls on stilettos and rhapsodic flair Chantelle did not purchase her dress at the charity shop Their stories unite as neo-liberal gangsters spin a yard on wheels of fortune While their procession fails to trickle down moderate glimpses of hope Some stride on the cat walk of privilege and others are scavengers in rags Exposed nipples are rather dissimilar but follow a different path Anyana gathers her virtues and sends love across the boundary of despair Her shoes bear no fairy tale stories when midnight strikes at the fashion Of stolen passion from sweat shops for garments scented with perfume Cause and effect cannot moderate nor gloss over amoral fabric 03rd November 2019