When the light comes on
it will be luminous
the ballerinas are burning their shoes.
One thinks of Jehanne D'Arc
as she stood at the stake
it began with her feet
The fire licking up her toes
no one ever saw
she was en pointe
The moon that night
was the same moon
as it is now
with less rotations
and much less dust
and the shoe is prepared
by every slim arsonist
until it can almost
stand by itself
Pirouettes, fouettes
in the language Jehanne spoke
as she cursed the moon
for revealing her position.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem