Hands shuffling the clothes on the rack
I find my costume, the bottom of the skirt
covered in dust

Switching costumes, the one I’m wearing goes on the rack
for the performance we’ll put on the next night.

Director pops his head in, covering his eyes
Showering us with compliments
(I like that part.)

I stare at the orchestra terms pasted on the wall
For our dressing room is the school’s
No, building’s
orchestra room.

Bariolage…
I like that word.