In days of old, did pensive dancers loaf about, leaning on temple doorjambs? Or, was that only the case in the minds of sculptors?
[after hours, the circus of the mind]
twisted puppets of an unworldly kind
marionettes have danced into a heap
but for one dancer who takes her leap
beyond the stage, off the ledge
freed of strings by midnight’s edge
bounding over a haunting chasm
the beating heart locked in a spasm
from backstage toy soldiers pour
but ballerina ‘s caught, slipped to floor
while her pursuers smash into shards
sliding wide as a fallen house of cards
and thus ends the dancer’s defection
exiting stage right without detection
viewed by empty seats, row-on-row
and who caught her, and where’d she go?
those are facts we’ll never know
We happened upon a dance performance going on in Freedom Park last night.