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      April 15, 2021Coming Down HardJulie Knight

      Pink tutu and pink tights
      and me with my fat ass
      all squeezed in tight like a pimple—
      and those tap shoes
      black and noisy, black and loud
      loud enough to tap over my mother’s
      you’ll-never-be-good-enough looks.
      I banged those shoes down hard
      on the kitchen floor
      making crescent moons in the linoleum.
      That Saturday comes and
      I’ve got that tutu pulled on tight
      and I’m up on that stage—
      about a dozen second graders
      up on that stage—
      all of us on top of our own
      round boxes painted like drums.
      Everybody’s going right and I’m going left
      and I don’t care.
      All I ever wanted was those pink tights
      pink leotard
      that tutu pink with sequins
      and those shoes—
      black shiny leather with a strap
      a gold buckle, and taps on the bottom—
      like bullets in a loaded gun
      nailed on to the heel and toe.
      Me up on that stage smiling and going left
      with my Mom and Dad in the front row.
      I’m coming down hard
      heel toe heel toe
      keeping time by whispering
      under my breath
      bang bang you’re dead.

      from Issue #1 - Spring 1995

      Julie Knight