Aspiring Ballerina With Thighs

it is sad, really, that I can't be

what I want to be because I am trapped

in a body that I can't change. 

maybe there are larger dreams to follow

than becoming so perfect you may shift and shimmer

and crinkle in someones hands

and your spine may tremble like a rainstorm

and you'll blow away in the wind, 

crack and annihilate like the pale ceramic

of an antique teapot admired only

for its delicate appearance. 

in crystalline dust you meet your perfect form

when you hug yourself and your pointy elbows

wrap twice around your pale chest. you are much less

than you expected. the mirror on one wall whispers

daunting addiction into the sallow aperture

beneath your cheek bones. 

the mirror on the other wall screams 

disillusions of your refusal to see your true self. 

the candor behind your iris is replaced 

with an inky velvet. you can't meet your eyes 

in the mirrors that stare at you relentlessly, 

chuckling at the bruised skin tucked against your bones.

you slop over the sides of ballets harrowing demand 

and shudder at what you've become 

but quickly release the thought-

autumn leaves blowing down an abandoned

city sidewalk.  

I don't want to be that, but being so perfect

that you break is probably better than breaking

from the desire to be perfect.

Reviews

[K. Louis]

Great imagery in the body, and thought provoking end! Well done!

[Dana Alsamsam]

thank you so much!

[Archangel Gabriel]

Wow the last three lines are the punch line! Well written as always in slick descriptive words and phrases.

[Dana Alsamsam]

thank you so much! your reviews always mean a lot :)