As I place my hand on the cold metal barre

the music strikes up,
Tchaikovsky, I think?
Quickly molding my feet into a first position,
heels pressed together, toes turned out in opposite directions.

My elbow is slightly bent, my hand
rests in front of my waistline,
at the end of the navy blue leotard
but the beginning of my crisp, pink tights.
The music reaches my ears and I count down:

5,6,7,8

I take a deep breath in and prepare to go into a plié.
The smell of wood, canvas, makeup, and sweat
and I breathe out.
My muscle memory tells me to plié.
I do.
A diamond shaped space forms in between my legs-
Crack!
I can feel my knees and my heels

And hear everyone else’s
Knees and heels crack.
The glorious feeling we all know
From taking
the
     first
            demi
                     plié.