girls gather in dream
to talk about dancing
the way girls do,ginger rogers recalling heels
stained girlish pink
with blood, her blood sacrificed
in pursuit of perfection,
weighted dresses floating
like her soul,the girl on the neon sign
laughing about her flight
up the pole, untouchable
even when touched,joan of arc stepping with
deadly grace, calling holy
fire into her eyes
as bright as the glint
of the light on her arcing
blade, unextinguishable
by any flame…in this way the multitudes pass
the night, girls in scuffed up
shoes and grass-stained pants,
girls corseted and uniformed,
soft and scarred,
lost and found, sharp
like broken glass and strong
like willow trees,remember dancing.
photograph by Elliott Erwitt
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