PRAYER OF DANCING.

A BALLET DANCER AND THE DANCE.

Pomencio would want her
To exercise the dance and

Even when she ought to be
Sleeping, she has Stravinsky

On the brain and in the limbs.
Feel the muscles, Tanya, feel

Them tone and moan, he’d say.
She stretches the arms and legs,

Reaches skywards, reaches out,
Sensing the aches and pains in

All the limbs. She stops, breathes
And remembers how Pomencio

Would place his hands upon each
Limb of hers in turn and run them

Up and down as if to remove any
Crease in muscle or skin. The dance,

He’d say, is a kind of prayer, Tanya,
Pray like an angel on the floor, move

To the music’s pulse like a lover, kiss
The air like a wanton woman. She sits

And stares and remembers her mother’s
Arms rubbing the clothes in the deep

Sink, the water hot and soapy, her arms
Red and rough. Enough daydreaming,

Pomencio says, and she moves once
More the limbs, the legs, the arms,

Gesturing with the hands, lifting the
Chin, turning her head, seeing in the

Turning room, the whole of her life spin
Around to music of Stravinsky’s sound.