Sunday, November 10, 2013

The Mag 193

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

 The Ballerina's Private Warm Up

She feels the constriction 
of a cocoon and the solitude- 
therein lies the crystalline craving 
to spin herself free.

A twirl to unwind- to whip-up
the motion to unclog the black and white
all around her-  she wishes for wind

she wishes for a spin-off of gale force
to extricate her from this morose.

She rises on her toes - shaky first
then in a solid stance her arms rise 
overhead with poise a momentary pause.

There is no music, except that alone
in her head- the composition
comes with spontaneity 

Is a powerful turn 
she thrusts herself into a running leap,
long legs scissor in defiance of gravity
then another, and a third
with a solid land- quickly
rising again to a pointe

she spins again 
shaking free of the grayness
her heart pounding
her chest heaves 
as she drops down
arms collapse to the floor
head bowing supplication...

Michael A. Wells



Jinksy said...

You caught a dancer's movements with your words - but did you not mean 'morass', rather than 'morose'? :)

Helen said...

You brought the dancer to life .. vividly, beautifully ... worthy of a standing ovation.

Michael A. Wells said...

Hi Jinksy... thanks for visiting. No, morose was the intended word.

humbird said...

Love the description of first steps in the dancing art/ life. Thoughtful

Tess Kincaid said...

Love that gale force spin...

Wayne said...

well done Michael...thanks for sharing

Susan Anderson said...

Your poem drew me in because it rings true. I liked it.