and why would you when up ahead is vermilion,
gold, when the dress you wear is billowed
by poise, hemmed with every minute
of every hour you practised, each step a step
forward, each twirl gathers momentum
for the next movement, the soles of feet
parallel, straight, laced, hair tied tight, draped down
a shoulder, taut in tense air where hopes spring
up like sped-up film, seed to flower in seconds
and that is how fast life feels—if you turn your head
for a moment you’ve missed it, left wondering
where has my partner gone, where is the audience,
who has been judging me this whole time?