By Cathy Socarras Ferrell
I perform
an endless rehearsal,
tired like the earth
repeating chaine1 turns
around a pitch-black stage,
loop after loop after loop.
I cannot find
my spot2. When I turn
to the mirror, my reflection is dizzy.
I am
out of step.
The tune winds down.
You remind me,
we are all imposters.
I leave the ends
of my ribbons loose,3
rest on a
rusted
coil.
________
1 A chain-like turn in which the dancer loops from one place to another
2 To avoid getting dizzy, a dancer fixes her focus on one secure spot
3 Tidiness and control are a ballet dancer’s signature. One must always be tucked in, neatly.
About the Author
Cathy Socarras Ferrell is a poet, writer, and educator from Central Florida. The granddaughter of Cuban immigrants, she finds inspiration in family story-telling, walking (anywhere), and the Sandhill cranes in her yard. Her work can be found at The Orchards Poetry Journal, Santa Clara Review, Compulsive Reader, and other literary journals. She is an alumna of the Tupelo Press 30/30 Project, and is an Associate Editor for table//FEAST Literary Magazine.