Work
Taylor steps into the studio,
Her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.
The students perched on their mats,
Await her direction.
She commands the room
Like a conductor commands his orchestra.
Her skin glows softly
As she struts over to her mat.
Shoulders pulled back.
Chin tilted up.
Her Lulu Lemon attire demands attention.
‘Is everybody ready?’ she questions,
Not waiting for a reply.
The music fills every corner of the studio,
Bringing the room to life
Bringing Taylor to life.
The students mimic her poses.
Mountain pose, to child’s pose, to downward dog.

En Route
She steps into the sheet of rain outside,
Careful not to let her makeup run with the rain.
Careful not to step in any puddles.
Careful not to muddy her pants.
The soft leather interior of her Lexus greets her.
Before turning the key in the ignition,
She looks into her rearview mirror,
Pulling her ponytail tighter
And smoothing the stray hairs.

Home
She steps into silence
With the door firmly locked behind her,
She pads over to her bed,
Still made from that morning.
Taylor collapses onto the linen comforter,
Cradles her phone to her ear.
Taylor dials the number of her mother.
It rings too long on her ear
Until the line, as usual, turns to silence.
Taylor dials the number of her sister.
?It rings too long on her ear?
Until Taylor finally begins to cry,
With the loneliness of her apartment enveloping her.