O Mama Mia....

I haven't been on here in eons! School does terrible things to my blogging habits I tell ya. In honor of me being nearly finished with my poetry class, here is an imitation poem* I did.

*Imitation poems follow the skeletal structure of their original with the poet placing his/her own specifics and verbs. Think poetry mad lib.

Deep in a Mirror

(after a poem by Robin Becker entitled “When Someone Dies Young”)

When a dancer looks in the mirror

a trickle of rejection lives

in her spine like a growth.

The crook of a knee

is a leg you would sculpt.

When a dancer looks in the mirror

and she arches fiercely

at the chained barre

in a studio tossed by music

and a director's scowl,

she longs for the clock,

preferring the warm-ups past.

Corrections she hears over and over

to suck in her stomach

dulling to hammers, bones

aligned with each twitch

to their anatomical ache.

When a dancer looks in the mirror

she wants to burn fat furiously

and get forgiveness for holidays of fat-scalloped morsels.

When a dancer looks in the mirror

the mystery of her muscles own

memory finds a rhythm

in the sunshine beam at the window.

The rigorous technique

of that spewing

mirror takes a hardening, like a nutshell,

and balks at no

when a dancer looks in the mirror.