Tonight, lanterns will swing freely like me, brassiere-less and glowing
Steam growing misty around my eyes,
My hair all pulled up, my bangs sticking to my forehead.

Lanterns will swing freely and the light will escape from them and create
Patterns on the glossy sidewalk
Plaster-white sidewalk with only a few pieces of black gum.

Lanterns will swing and patterns will dance and mirrors will tarnish
With time, green or brown, with cracks.
Until, perhaps, one day I shall not be able to see myself in them
My reflection might be murky and indistinguishable from that of a tree
Or a root
Or a dog
Or any other lonely person.

Tonight, the mirrors will crack and the glass will collect dust and piggy-banks will be left unshaken 
Their promises unfulfilled,
Leaving empty tummies and sunken-welled eyes.

Tonight, the lanterns may swing free but the lightbulbs inside will be trapped, 
Emaciated and skillfully looking for ways to break the glass.
Tonight, men will cry and mothers will mourn for themselves
And decisions will be decided
And switches will be flicked
And dancing will illuminate the gum