Silver – stanza 16

Allison never went to the theater, she danced
And dancing rarely spared an evening for a show
As far off the beaten path as Malinov’s play
She did have friends of friends in theater
But mostly of the musical kind, mere words
Didn’t catch the imagination of someone
So deeply vested in the pure poetry of motion
Instead, Allison kept busy turning heads
With her elegant stampede from corps
The principal, at first a purely local success
Starting with enthusiastic and superficial
Effusions of flattery and excess by small
Town dance critics in small town papers
Word of mouth slowly and steadily spreading
Her fame among teachers and balletomanes
Until someone from a serious company
Took the time to attend some rehearsals
And stood frozen and gaping during
Her pas de deux, witnessing a power
Borne deep in the long Russian winter
Bent on a perfect parade before the King
The rise of her leg, the breathless immobility
Held and delivered in a poised perfect spin
Reaching, stopping, twisting, jumping
Allison became an angel, devil, tormentor
Lover, beast, princess, maiden, thief
A snowflake of crystalline perfection
And all anyone could think to ask is
“Where did this ballerina come from?”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, fiction, kindle, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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