She fell gracefully,
perfectly balanced
like the sweep of a dancer’s arm in reverence,
subtle as the Balanchine hand,
complex as a port de bras.
A fall caused by the glare of footlights
or darkness after closing night?
She said it was the arch of an eyebrow
and blindness in a careless moment.
*The Fall, revised from August 2012
love this one, ron.
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thanks ann. this version is reworked for a poetry workshop called The Poetry Free-for-all…who knew my poems needed so much rewriting? heheh
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but then you know what i think about that…
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Thanks for dropping by and liking my post. Good journey
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Hello, Ronald. Beautiful juxtaposition here, from the reader’s conventional expectation as to cause of the fall, vs. opening to the interior, human, sensuous mind of the dancer. Provocative final image. Grace indeed, the highest beauty.
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Thank you for investing your time in my poetry -it is indeed the highest of compliments. You have my gratitude.
Ron
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Thanks for the like. Be well.
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