Poetry of Issue #8        Page 65

BALLERINA FEET

Ballerina feet
supple as hands

talking.
Starting each step

with a spring, a push,
turning legs into wings—

unfurling, pulsing—
riding the air.

Touching down,
never stopping.

Lifting the crowd.

The key is the ballerina’s
instep—arched,

the joints of her toes bending
at right angles,

unfazed by hammering
in slippers tipped

with hard boxes.
Most important—daily class

that trains the feet.

Some bleed. Mine didn’t—
but wait.

Ballerina feet later on
are mute. Maybe crippled.

If I’d known how it would end,
would I have danced?

Oh, yes.