Bit Through Lips Poem by Lidia Running

her face is a mask of balance beam routines
the mothers in the crowd are hanging on to every motion
every flip, leap, split, and the dog-jowled expression on her face
is the last thing you notice

they say that when all the other girls
wanted to be ballerinas, they would have been vampires
but what do you say to the girl who really is a ballerina
and likes it like that?

the mothers run off at the mouth like broken records
the rich women who pay the even richer men
who say that their daughters will be the next Olympians
even though they just want to feel them up

the rocker chick lays around with headphones in her ears
but the only thing she's listening to is your madness
and the woe-filled stories dripping from your lips
like sugar water, it soothes her hummingbird soul