~a poem in two acts~
I
The White Swan
The cygnet exhales,
a fledgling wraith
suspended in the eternal silence of stage,
breathing as a specter, as a phantom,
breathing in conjunction with the
perpetual bourrée of her toes — which,
entombed in threadbare satin,
waltz across hardwood
to the 4/4 rhythm of her racing heartbeat.
Her face is an enigma,
her mind a fortress,
cloaked behind a pristine, unshakeable exterior
gleaming deceptively in milky footlights.
Spectators embrace her measured sorrow,
her rueful fragility, parceled into the guise
of the white feathered tutu and coiled bun,
a perfect picture of purity,
a falsehood;
with every développé, she exudes melodrama,
her composure as fictitious as the recherché
folktale on display.
No captivated admirer across the lake can perceive
how the rouge lipstick and Tchaikovsky measures
muffle her heaving gasps. Her serenity is contrived,
her solemness calculated,
no whisper of uncertainty nor hesitation
revealed to the spectator,
no room to falter,
not until she pirouettes offstage
whereupon she sheds the shackles of her tortured promenade.
II
The Black Swan
Faintness consumes her haggard silhouette,
the avalanche of applause
a distant quake behind her,
out-anguished by the scream
of her searing muscles
and molten toes.
The mangled mass collapses alongside a water fountain
whilst clarinet sonatas chime
like birdsongs, or nightmares
somewhere far beyond.
Unrecognizable now, she is,
a shell of the majestic swan she’d been
mere moments before,
yet still perilously, sensationally
human.
One adagio to rest.
Catching her breath, she readjusts the ribbons on her shoes —
loops of blush satin,
square-knotted at the ankle —
knowing that this aching pocket of
time was the product of all her
childhood ballet slippers and missed birthday parties
exchanged for an itch for transcendence,
a bargain sworn in blood from
the wellspring of her naive heart
and yet — without remorse.
The wellspring becomes a fountainhead
as sweat streams from her hairline.
She cannot stop,
she cannot rest,
for she is cued once again
to tombé from stage right — and to conceal,
without wavering, from those who watch:
the dichotomy of dancer.
Sophia Campbell is a high school junior who is deeply passionate about writing. She has published three novels, including She of the Shadows (2024), and has received multiple awards for her work, including a Scholastic Silver Key. She has worked as a guest editor for Dr. Ralph Bauer of the University of Maryland on the Early Americas Digital Archive. Additionally, she trains in ballet at a professional level and has performed at the Kennedy Center in various productions.