The Ballerina

Strokes of pink ribbon
satin gloss reflecting light
tight toes point and arc and curve
gossamer stretches and spreads
encircles perfect posture
radiates movement
the hair falls and sways
dark curls unfurl
and the smile rests between lips
and bending wrists gently reaching

the city hums
car exhaust and bums
begging for help
she walks up and down the hill
past city hall
sewing in studios
weaving wax floss within ribbons
the striations and callous definitions
carved in and upon her body
hidden beneath the velvet
broken toes
splintered nails
bruised feet

She walks to and fro
on tips and toes
tracing the lines of movement
embedded into memory
she dances in the studio sanctuary
up and down
out and in
over and below
bowing and bending
her graceful eye
examines her line
records her gestures in the mind
self scrutiny
so deeply wise

What do we see
this delicate beauty
this angel on stage
graceful and gay
she opens in the light
this moonflower of night
piercing darkness with day

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