A Ballet Month in Taos
Rob Spiegel
Toe shoes wear down quickly,
but not blisters. My feet fly where
pain can’t follow, where school and
sisters and parents can’t follow.
I miss my kittens, but Taos
knows how to fly. The mornings
shine like no sun. The air burns
me free and my feet don’t
touch the floor for hours.
These are my people, one by
one, they complete me. I know I am
my self, alive and breathing free.
At night the cool air lifts
me home and I have grown.