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Smoky Dancers MAG
September 15, 2011
With lips curled around a cigarette,
It is not smoke I exhale.
It is the gracious release of a troupe of dancers
Ballerinas en l'air
Wisps of their tulle skirts
Are joined to their delicate feet
By long twisted ribbons
And I feel the pain in their pointed toes
Rattling in the pit of my lungs.
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This article has 2 comments.
smileyface96 BRONZE said...
on Oct. 18 2011 at 7:28 pm
Splendid description!
BrightBurningCampeador PLATINUM said...
on Oct. 12 2011 at 2:10 pm
THis is such a powerful poem. It brings tears to my eyes, because my dad smokes. It embodies the conflict I see in him.
