The girl across the street was learning ballet.

I wanted to, though I couldn’t see.

At the age of eleven,

with a private teacher young and energetic,

I learned to plie, sashay.


With a cassette tape she made

that contained music and her instructions,

I jumped, kicked, skipped across our Arizona kitchen floor.


We moved to Wyoming a year later.

With a different teacher, old and crabby,

I tried a class with other girls,

couldn’t tell what they were doing,

dropped out, moved on.




This poem was once published in The Pangolin Review. Click the link below to hear me read it.


DancingThis image contains: me, smiling.