Sunday, February 27, 2011

isadora by Hila Shachar

aglow in peach and folds
she ducks and weaves
a flesh-tinged colour that enfolds her skin
unhinging the body, piece by piece
an abbreviation
of something that came before her

stale sir ruffles
she jumps forward, arms awry
each finger is a heralding of modernity
sharp, broken shards of a fugitive history
imperceptibly annihilating

an unappeasable transformation
becoming unmade, unwired
the roar of bare feet on a theatre floor
unprotected by history or pointe


etre-soi said...

I can see her clearly dancing...beautiful !

hila said...

thanks sofia!

Tracey said...

Just beautiful Hila ... the sense of movement is mesmerising.

hila said...

thanks tracey!