a ballerina who found God

at 4:03 am a ballerina is cutting across my sidewalk,

white and cream and pale gold.

bruises line her thighs and wrists like stormclouds;

blue veins crawl across her skin.

there is a tightrope between my building and the next

and she walks, one foot in front of the other,

until she reaches the end.

when she gets to my window

she smiles and tells me something:

i saw God today.

then she

j

u

m

p

s.