elementia

Leap of Faith

By Mary Rueschoff

Twirling

Twirling-Twirling

Along with the shhing of the pointe shoe on the stage

The smooth, sweet music playing to her sharp moves.


No Graphite

By Lindsay Luchinsky

From his lips

To the paper,

To the teacher,

To the air,

To my mind that will not recall.


Tickled Truffle

By Lindsay Luchinsky

A thought may amble a bit ‘till it trips to a halt,

            ‘till it ticks up a halt and a half.

Slams to a door and whatever blue-black residue flirts with the hinges,


P(h)ew

By Lindsay Luchinsky

This curving,
cynical back behind me, it’s:
A warm bench,
A warm chestnut bench,

A warm chestnut.  A cold foreboding pew.
Luster here has now turned bland:
contaminated with waltzing dust and
a reek of pages
not turned for a decade.
Maybe more.