By Marti Rhode
All I want now is a pair of turquoise cowgirl boots.
You know what kind,
the ones with doily stitching around the top,
and pointed, cowgirl toes.
I want one of those twirling skirts with white rick-rack trim,
and fringe, somewhere.
I’m done with pointe shoes and satin ribbons to stitch.
No more toes aching in lambswool,
no more tulle, no more tights
no more partnering prince.
My only fouettes will be eggs
beaten for he-man breakfasts.
In layers of starched crinolines,
to hold strangers at bay,
give me easy, solid sod,
flat feet in flat shoes,
on flat earth,
stomping hard in staccato beats.
Dancing the simple life, allemande-left and right,
intricate patterns on foolish floor boards
in a wooden barn, on a splintered floor,
doing dosey-doh into a splintered life.
Marti Rhode, a graduate of Occidental College and Hunter College, has a BA in music, an MA in drama, and an MS in Education. Before becoming a writer, she performed on Broadway. Marti is aof the Los Angeles Poets & Writers Collective.