The spotlight is harsh sunshine on my skin
as I stand, encased in satin, silk and tulle.
My shoes, well-rosined, laced around my ankles,
glisten with the burgundy beauty of blood.
My hair, wrapped sleekly round my skull,
adorned with rubies the shade of pigeon’s blood,
shines like a sterling silver helmet.
I bend, all submissive grace, to an invisible partner,
parting lips glacéed with the blood of cherries,
raise my arms and cry to heaven,
“I’m here! You called; I came. You promised. Where is he?”
No answer comes.
So, sur les pointes, arms crossed to keep my balance,
spinning round and round and round,
my eyes bleed tears as I survey the blackness
beyond the spotlight.
And, although your presence permeates
the silence of the shadows
I see nothing.
But you, cat’s eyes hidden ‘neath a mask, can see me,
as I dance, alone, for you.
© 2012 RC deWinter
Ballet as a metaphor for disappointment and regret.