light strikes you
and you are no longer
a woman, the shape
of your body like
a cliff of colors
crushed and liquefied,
music snared
in your limbs.
they are four pale sparrows
gathered all at once,
blooming at the waists, fingers
lacing and raveling about their ankles,
feet slipped into fabric the way muscle
melds to bone, hollow and unpeeled.
their own bodies arch for movement,
with little wings fastened
in the arc of pirouette, dive of arabesque,
sigh of plié—
limbs fluted and flaring in flight,
they ache with the curve
of clefs and notes,
a commotion of silks and ribbons
breaking open and upon themselves,
riotous,
bodies knotting with tutus
into separate creatures.
the way muscle
melds to bone, hollow and unpeeled.
their own bodies arch for movement
sigh of plié
limbs fluted and flaring in flight
they ache with the curve
of clefs and notes,
a commotion of silks and ribbons
bodies knotting with tutus
into separate creatures.