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A ballerina dances in a Victorian golden music box;
She dreams and dreams dreams of raffled bits of cobalt.
But today, the ballerina is sad.
Her small feet are tired of musical melancholy.
She wonders why God did not make her into a human instead.
Everyday, a girl looks at the ballerina.
She talks to the ceramic doll because Mommy says
That at night the ballerina becomes a blue-haired fairy.
The little girl says she wants to be a ballet dancer.
The ballerina wants to tell something to the girl.
But her small porcelain mouth traps her voice.
The girl paints her green earth with pink and purple.
Secretly, the ballerina is reinventing the alphabet;
She wants to teach the girl how to write and how to speak.
The girl loves to look at the ballerina’s smooth pink face.
The ballerina wishes she had a face.
The girl no longer likes to see the ballerina in her room;
She tells her Mom those things are for little silly girls.
It’s 6:00 a.m. New York time.
The girl is hurrying to reach her rehearsals on time;
Adam, her choreographer, is very demanding.
And the ballerina doesn’t know if she still wants to be human.
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