Friday 31 January 2014

Dance Lessons

The spring of her feet
defies mortal laws.
There is nothing
more beautiful than her flight.

What does she do
with no wings, no magic?
Around her waist,
a halo of hard tulle.

She says they hurt -
the curl of her toes,
the bend of her feet,
the arch of her back.

So I told her once:
I would like to know
your pain. Hold me fast
against the pull of the earth.

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