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
You caught a dancer's movements with your words - but did you not mean 'morass', rather than 'morose'? :)
ReplyDeleteYou brought the dancer to life .. vividly, beautifully ... worthy of a standing ovation.
ReplyDeleteHi Jinksy... thanks for visiting. No, morose was the intended word.
ReplyDeleteLove the description of first steps in the dancing art/ life. Thoughtful
ReplyDeletepoem.
Love that gale force spin...
ReplyDeletewell done Michael...thanks for sharing
ReplyDeleteYour poem drew me in because it rings true. I liked it.
ReplyDelete=)