Aging Ballerina
The bleeding
of feet begins.
Bones smashed
Odor of body sweat.
Useless to silence it.
Impossible to heal.
It weeps ceaselessly
as rain weeps
on wilted flowers
as the hail stings
the bare face
Impossible to calm.
Toes throb from
cruel point-shoes
Veins on fire
persecuted knees
Long for white
cloud of comfort.
Paralyzed mornings;
magical evenings
yearning for
the delicious ache
of soaring unconscious
In sublime delight
under blinding light,
on hard stage planks
Oh, Ballet,
give a break
to aging ballerina.
Heart palpitating,
broken bones
metamorphosis, oh,
precious agony...
No comments:
Post a Comment