72 To Constance
No, not a victim -- you are still the ballerina.
You know the foreign language of your hands.
You hold the moving scripture of your face
When you are rising on two toe tips with the rhythm.
No, not a victim -- teach me how to breathe with music,
To be the silent exclamation mark,
To speak with ears, to listen with a tongue,
And read the dancing faces in their slightest movements.
No, not a victim -- teach me how to enter chaos,
The rumble from the breaking bones of notes,
And on the lame short legs of broken words,
How I can put myself together -- in a ballet.
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