Linda A. Cronin
LIKE FEATHERS, LIKE WINGS
Defying physics and gravity, I too danced
in a man's arms. We swirled on the clouds,
before the warped bones, before walking
to the bed became a two-man shuffle,
the attendant holding my body upright,
supporting my weight, while my legs stutter
their way across the room.
But now I dream
I dance all night. But alone,
the way I must face my death. I spin
through the blue of innocence
A pirouette on point,
a pas de chat.
When I stop dancing,
when I realize I lie trapped in this bed,
I wonder if when death arrives,
will I simply pirouette
into the beyond?