Little Dancer Aged Fourteen.
Right foot spooned sideway, in first
Position, ready for her ballet routine.
Arms stretched out to the back
Fingers woven like a wicker basket
A satin green ribbon below her neck.
A linen bodice buttoned down
To gauzy tutu, somewhat antiquated,
Above it all, a realistic frown.
Oblivious to the past public uproar
And bad press, she's traveled time and space,
Viewing viewers by her grace.
Degas didn't see her swing
Past wax. Today she stands in bronze,
-- Nike of the Impressionist wing.


Salon.com
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