surfacing

Across the vast, moonlit stage
a slim figure is set
a statue in a perfect arabesque
draped in seamless satin

the string section of the orchestra
draws the visible light brighter,
gathers a certain reverie,
brings the statue to life

Beethoven's Symphony No. 4 fills the air
the luminescence accentuates the statue
--tenured muscles carefully carved
matched with a countenance too perfect for words

From a demi-plie to a grand jete
the statue glides with exceptional grace
each pirouette signed with dexterity,
a feather in the air, a beautiful artisan in itself

Beethoven's piece on its final sheet
the orchestra reaches decrescendo
the hollow space catches an uproar
and the statue returns to its perfect arabesque

the once moonlit stage now pitch black
behind closed curtains, the statue slumps
no longer in its lean, slim silhouette
but rather in an unfamiliar slouch

removing its pointe shoes
has never been as painful
its eyes wince as it caressed its calloused feet
the faultless technique paid for by bruises
its poise close to perfection worthy of blisters

As pain and throb struggle
the statue replaces its pointe shoes
again, the faint moonlight came into view
...the statue takes its cue
reappears in its arabesque
--seamless, perfect, unknowing