Sweet Swan

There is nowhere else
I want to be but
in my dance class.

Black leotard, pink tights,
pink leather shoes.
I am ready. A familiar

piano melody signals
the beginning of ballet.
A light touch of the smooth

barre while I check my
posture. Breathe, flow, glide
across the wooden floor

I go. My body is warm
like I swallowed hot fudge
sauce. Walls of mirrors

display – ME —
my reflection doing patterns
of sweet dance steps, repeated

over and over until they become
a part of me. I imagine there is
a tutu around my waist, feathers

and glitter in my hair.
My dance class becomes a
theater and I am on stage,

changed into a graceful swan,
delicate yet strong.