Poetry

An Ode to My Inner Ballerina

by Brianna Colmenares

I am Clara, I am Alice
running circles in my pointe shoes
the Dodo, and the Dormouse stare. 
The March Hare hounds her to stop.
He is dizzy. Tweedledee and Tweedledum find me as 
I am on the way to the Kingdom 
of Snow begging me to show them how to calypso.
In a perfect world the Queen of Hearts and 
the Rat King will wed and I will 
be left alone to leap all over Wonderland.

In a world of my 
own I would simply sissone 
over the flowers singing “Golden Afternoon.”
Twirl  in between the changing hues of the caterpillar’s 
hookah smoke. I would trade my itty bitty 
mushroom piece for 
one of those Christmas 
cookies. I would remain the size 
of grass — three inches tall. If only 
to stay in my head.

Appeared in Issue Spring '22