She did it for herself
Performed it in her mind
Conceived her own audience
Eyes widened by surprise
She confided in the smallest part of her
Tucked it inside
Waltzing with a boldness
She screamed her lines
Her black dress became a shadow
Beneath her feet, it laid
Brown toes wriggled free
Only the darkness covered her
The play called for nakedness
Who was she to complain
This is an eighth grade play
Her teacher shouted
She ignored her
Red curtains rise
She holds a yellow rose
Her scented sun
She plucked them slowly
On the cold stage
The brown glow of her body in spotlight
Shivering in glee
The audience gasped in horror
"This is blasphemy!"
Tears welled up in shame
She wondered what was art
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
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3 comments:
Brilliant! Well, "she did it for herself", so i have no complains there.
Oh, I feel for her. Awesome poem!!! Loved every line.
Wow. Just wow.
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