Dress Rehearsal

By Chloe Honum Chloe Honum
Branches etch the film of ice
on the studio window. A crow looks in,
hopping and shrieking when I dance
in my black tutu, trimmed with silver.

The ballet master says, you are its mother.
But in a crow’s sky-knowing mind
could I be so misconstrued?
Out of the blackest

cold-wet air, the crow seems molded.
The stars will not wake up to guide it
back to the creek of shadows
where it was formed. Practice, practice.

I am smoke in darkness, climbing away
from a burning hut, in an otherwise empty field
on which the fire is slight and low,
and the rest of it is snow.

Source: Poetry (November 2009).


This poem originally appeared in the November 2009 issue of Poetry magazine

November 2009
 Chloe  Honum


Chloe Honum's poems have appeared in AGNI, the Paris Review, Best New Poets 2008, and elsewhere.

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Poems by Chloe Honum

Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Arts & Sciences, Theater & Dance

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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