February 28, 2019My Mother Was a Dancer and She Never Looked Back
and why would you when up ahead is vermilion,
gold, when the dress you wear is billowed
by poise, hemmed with every minute
of every hour you practised, each step a step
forward, each twirl gathers momentum
for the next movement, the soles of feet
parallel, straight, laced, hair tied tight, draped down
a shoulder, taut in tense air where hopes spring
up like sped-up film, seed to flower in seconds
and that is how fast life feels—if you turn your head
for a moment you’ve missed it, left wondering
where has my partner gone, where is the audience,
who has been judging me this whole time?
from Ekphrastic Challenge