She sits down, her insides turning, like
the dance to come.
Her mouth dry, her hands wet. Through pounding heart, she rises.
thoughts race. one moment, one slip, even just a twitch could change it all.
She looks at the mirrors, stands up.
Biting her lips, those red berries
she goes to it
one moment, just one slip
can change it all

she plays the images through: the perfect dance.
She bends forward to the pole: Stretches.
One moment could change it all.
Threw shut eyes, she sees perfection.
She glances:
the girl does look professional:
the leotards, the tight bun.
Those points, the symbol, the pride of dancers: ballerinas.
She looks up, tears streaming.
She takes the pouch of powder.
To calm her nerves, to dry her hand
to keep her from the single slip, the twitch
that could end it all.
It falls, it spills; her eyes enlarge.
With open eyes and clouds of mist
One moment changed it all.