Ballet Shoes on Old Oak Floors
She slipped her tender toes
Into my familiar bind
My pink laces swiveled around
Her legs like house cats.
And I animated her.
She spent months scoffing
My soles, ripping my throat,
Tearing my ribbons and wearing
My platforms.
Together we grow old.
But one day they will put us
Both in a small pink box,
Only to spin clockwise when
It opens, only to dance to
The pained silence felt
In the lost song of a mermaid.
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