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Beyond Ballet; Keyhole by Margaret Adams Birth


Belly-down, torso twisting,

spiraling sculptural lines—

initiating ideas:

pantomime, plastic movement, stage deportment.

Her ongoing love of the peripheries

pushes her to consider a new center

of gravity, other points of reference

beyond the technical training

to support one’s earthbound weight.

The threads and little ravelings of inspiration,

innovation, convince her that she can

remain in touch with her roots

without staying static, stuck.

So, she’ll remove her toe shoes,

swipe tights-covered feet across the wooden floor,

and stare in fascination

as tiny blue stars fly in brief arcs

from the static caused by her electrical charge.


A space

For ingress

And egress,

Fit for teeth (but not a mouth),

A skeleton (not of bone, but of metal), or perhaps

An unbent bobby pin in a pinch.

Lock us in.

Lock others out.

Secure safety, property. (Try to) guard secrets, privacy.

Whether a thin line, like the slit between lips

That narrow in pinched and pleated disapproval,

Or a hole that’s just-right-sized

For a too-curious, spying gaze inside,

If you can find what you need to fill the emptiness,

It’s yours to control.

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