The white tulle circling my waist
keeps me caught here, in this in between,
a nearly empty drink clutched in my left hand.
A new one is poured and in a moment
I am young again, suddenly back
at
my first ballet recital:
tutu wider than I am tall,
hands resting on
the sheer size of it,
red cheeks
pinched with happiness
or Halloween, age 8:
the skirted mermaid’s tail
my mother had sewn for me,
the felt scales of it
beneath my tiny hands,
the glitter on my eyes
too heavy
or that family vacation:
the Maui sun setting behind me,
dancing on the beach with
my hands in the long plastic grass
that trailed from my
narrow hips,
the real flowers
around my neck slowly dying,
the adults looking on.
keeps me caught here, in this in between,
a nearly empty drink clutched in my left hand.
A new one is poured and in a moment
I am young again, suddenly back
at
my first ballet recital:
tutu wider than I am tall,
hands resting on
the sheer size of it,
red cheeks
pinched with happiness
or Halloween, age 8:
the skirted mermaid’s tail
my mother had sewn for me,
the felt scales of it
beneath my tiny hands,
the glitter on my eyes
too heavy
or that family vacation:
the Maui sun setting behind me,
dancing on the beach with
my hands in the long plastic grass
that trailed from my
narrow hips,
the real flowers
around my neck slowly dying,
the adults looking on.
