In silken shoes, she twirls upon the stage,
A whisper of the wind, so light, so free,
Her movements paint the air, a soft engage,
With every leap, she writes a symphony.
Dainty as petals kissed by morning dew,
Delicate lines drawn in the evening light,
A fleeting dream, with every turn she flew,
A fleeting glimpse of heaven, pure delight.
Her heart beats strong beneath the gauzy veil,
Grace woven through each arch and pointed toe,
In every spin, the world begins to pale,
And time suspends, as if it longs to know.
A ballerina, in her art, she’s bound,
In graceful dance, true beauty can be found.
A flattened rose mumbles
An old cracked button chuckles
Tickled by a 2nd place ribbon
In the corner a tattered doll weeps
Comically consoled by a one-eyed bear
Ballet slippers long for a pointed toe
A dried corsage sits inside a dusty tiara
A leather-bound diploma shouts success
A tear stained letter sorrow
For joy and sadness are but fleeting moments
Imbedded in the soul of ephemera
blank-faced the page calls
each pounded pore of rice waits
brush tips dance on pointed toe
or fall like curtains
stark poser of questioned light
much more is left than finished
softer surface calls
needle prick the skin of white
adorning torsos and limbs
shaded dragon roil
as biceps flex and uncurl
much more is left unfinished
sea green stones of jade
shade and shadowed by chisel
leaves and limbs of trees precise
form rows dark and light
frozen forests unmoving
much more is left unfinished
First Published in Eunoia Fall of 2014
Pennylane wore shiny cheap
plastic knee high boots
with the pointed toe and
pencil heel.
Stumbling sandy steps
forty miles frim Tijuanna.
She wore a strippers silk skirt,
swishing against pale, thin thighs.
Penny was seducing salvation
in Augusts torrid sandy
impoverished paradise.
Pacific air, pushed up,
wretched rock cliff faces,
blowing her small frame,
tossing sand to mix with
the blow in her purse.
She'd hold her tequila bottled
tight, exposing small
white knuckles
clinging to clear fluid
clutching and encasing the
desert water.
Corrupting, coursing, pushing,
spinning the trapped little worm.
She hated and loved the caged
creature, she liked that
her grasp, staggering step
could control his motion and at
bottle's end,
she could swallow his fate.
Pointed toe and heel so high
she walked along the beach
The surf rushed in with foam and weed
to dance upon her feet
But dreams of things so far away
the wet she did not feel
Pink sunset soft and falling
upon the empty shore
The time has come to leave the day
to leave those dreams so far away
Stepping upon the dunes and grass
the marshmallows wet and soft
Laughing about the walk she took
in shoes of Sunday best
Brought things to mind that mattered not
and knew what mattered most
To do a little living
and wear the shoes to laugh and dream
upon the sandy coast.
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