She prowls through the floor,
on the black boards atop ice laid away for hockey games,
slinking in darkness, she goes unseen
to those focused on the mega screen
depicting changing seasons,
the rippling wind in the field of flowers
on the ear lobe-shaped stage,
to the center of the arena,
mounts a circular stage.
Olivia assumes the position,
her climactic song at the ready,
poised to garner screams in surround sound.
Lights beam on her,
revealing location and intent;
fans thunder around her, the guitars begin.
Unraveling, yet in control,
she yields to the heavens above
as programmed rain floods down upon her.
Before our eyes,
her collared dress seeps heavy with water,
tearing under its own weight,
becoming silly string, then foam, then gone.
Left underneath, a striking red mini sheath,
she rips at the remainder of her soluble overdress,
shedding the dead skin of a deciduous relationship.
Exposing herself to us all,
yet more powerful than ever,
she emerges, stronger, changed,
and I notice, can't help but see,
that the light is back in her eyes.
