BOP

Spinning

She wears a heavy expression and forces

a smile—disguising angst of

faltering—hot breaths cloud the window,

wet fear sprinkles palms,

her heart pounds to the ¾ of the waltz,

“Lina, come join us please”

And their toes keep spinning

Movements take unison—

clockwork: echapé, fifth, echapé, piqué—

‘across the floor’ screams klutz alert,

she drags herself to the back of the line

in partners they take off,

she dreads, they spin

with impeccable lines,

she admires, they spin

And their toes keep spinning

She takes position, sensing stares that

plague her confidence with judgement,

gulps back panic, ready to swallow pride.

She loses sight of others and forgets…

for two seconds the combination.

And with an unexpected grace, she moves

And her toes keep spinning