Limn of Ballerina Feet

Limn of Ballerina Feet Slaving, aching in separate rooms of satin palace, Two haggard maids make faces wry while weeping sweat, Their ten sore daughters with bloodshot i’s, callused Wince upon each light of high strides leapt. Never more shall their soles be new sculpture pure, As once when marble babes of stiffer stance, Before piano keys unlocked their gaits with gore— Wrought them damage as prize for performance. The bank thorns had pierced their heels to tearing, Limping river-long to learn the liquid bearing: Mimic nature’s motion, her seamless stream, Through tempest & temperance That then they may perfect the sacrificial dance.