Tora Estep and Crossley A. Simmons


Tora Estep, pastel on paper

By Crossley A. Simmons

Inspiration piece

There is no allegro
in a child’s dream pirouetted accident.
Tutu discipline drowns pink
and now I am abled less than.
To be bunned and pointed
tights of freedom
we fell in company with attitude
and batterie, quick to cross avant self-conscious
behind melodies.

Pas over jargon stages
we were just leotards and glittered eyes
holding nervosas off ‘til the toes callus
bleeding starvation and the broke repetition

of crutches.

Forever seen as | | but I remain pink.
Hot pink
re-learned speech and walk to a ten-year
waited jump.
I want the pain of the dance in my spasms
hands capped by their refusal to unfold.
Bravura, hide my never.


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