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Divi Sharma Jan 2017
Pale pink tights wrapped in an elastic hug
around a little girl’s strawberry plump thighs.
With wavering fingers, she gave a mighty tug
at her silky ribbon wraps, and began to fantasize...

Basking in the heat of a glimmering light,
a dancer shuffled her way across a wooden stage;
she was weightless, her body contorting away from the night,
as she flaunted her lyrical ritual under a spotlight cage.

She extended her leg and twirled her arms,
perpendicular against the forces of gravity.
She wanted to reach the sun, to touch the stars,
but the crescendo ripped through her balance, and she was considered free.

Spinning, spinning, like a dreidel;
Every muscle poised and ready to be a bulletproof vest.
Spinning, spinning, until she was unable;
A thunderous applause erupted from the crowd of unwelcomed guests...

“REBECCA!” a voice snapped outside her dreamscape.
Drooling little girls with tight buns and runny noses
staring at their tutus, mouths agape.
A shoe in one hand, she ran to do her first lunges.

— The End —