Plié, passé, pirouette
Plié, passé, pirouette
Neck shiny with sweat
In the dim room I observe my silhouette

Tuck that in, make that straight
Their beady eyes gauge my gait
Thin lips pursed, they decide my fate
Convinced still, my wide hips are my worst trait

With its stubborn kinky frizz
My hair falls out of place
It’s almost funny they can think
I can tie it up with lace

“Too tall”, they would say
“Pretty hue, but not for this part”
Head bowed, I would pray
I would hope with all my heart

Port de bras, piqué
I feel the heat in my joint
But I keep spinning, leaping, flying
I will be on point
I will be on pointe