Prima Ballerina

I lean my hand against the wooden bar
I step into first position
The room’s mirror is placed before me
A little doll takes shape

With long brown curls dripping out of the sides
Of a once perfect bun
A porcelain face complements a petit body
Without curves or flaws

The doll is wound up
And begins to twirl
Her eyes blank
Absent of any inner emotions

A robot programmed only by the steps
Step
Leap
Heel
Toe
Spin
Again

The lights in the studio dim
A light casts on the little doll
As she repeats the steps
Not one different from the last

The steps swirl into one cohesive rhythm
The doll steps away from the bar
Outstretches her leg to the palms of her hand
In an agile extension of limbs

And she spins
Round and round
Like a ballerina in a music box
The lights start to emerge

A flash, a beam of light
Encapsulates the entire room
And my body is no more
Replaced by the little porcelain doll’s

My cheeks are perfectly rosy
My body perfectly thin
My eyes perfectly focused
My feet and arms perfectly placed

As my leg is clasped in my hands
I try to shake lose
But to no avail
I continue twirling

My mind is panicked
But my face is placid

As days go on
I continue to spin
Perfectly in place
Perfectly in step
Until my last perfect breath