Off slips the silk, her gown tumbling down quick,
As sultry, French-sung melodies resound,
And out so slinks a high-arched foot from satin
And tulle amass, their layers so like cream.
So creamy, her gardenia skin did glow
Under spotlights, catching on jewels encrusted
In corset taut upon her torso small.
She twirls upon her slippered toes as she
Slips from her arm a glove of netting white
And offers to the crowd her dove-like hand.
Off goes the other in a graceful gesture
As ballerina-like her hands do dance and
Her feet do flutter as they spin her 'round
A stage like Swan Lake's set so sweetly laid.
She draws the ribbons from her corset loose,
And tugs the whale-boned bodice from her waist
Revealing belly pale beneath brazier
With trim of lace so feathery and silver.
Then up she scoops the feathered fan with grace
And sweeps it through the air, gliding lightly
In scanty lace and satin gadget pale.
Her breasts like lovely little doves do peek
Through silken sheaths with floral gauze as wings.
Then down the straps of lace fall with a shrug
As to the crowd she turns her lovely back,
And snaps undone the clasp that closed the sheath,
Letting it drop upon the polished stage.
A second fan she sweeps up, back still turned
And spinning swift en pointe she hides herself
Behind the downy mass of ostrich plumes.
A secret sweet she keeps her dainty form,
Now stripped of all shrouds of delicate threads
Left clothed in only tiny, rhinestone bits
And shielded by azure feathers curled.
Her plume now glides at rosy fingertips,
Whilst one protects her flesh from hungry eyes
Like downy caul upon a creature new.
Then spread her fans so like a swan's wingspan,
Revealing beauty's core immaculate:
A beast so fierce with femininity
Kept covered and bound for fear of savagery.