AMY BEVERLEY
First Prize - 2021 Tower Poetry Competition, 'The Key'
Dance of the Prisoner
Suspended in a slight bubble of glass,
Porcelain arms contorted unbearably,
I dream of being able to surpass
The imposition of that wretched key.
It turns. I dance. It turns. I dance. It turns—
This sentence in a spot I don't belong
sparked an insatiable fire which burns
Through freezing water. Electrified song.
I imagine words, and with no great haste
Sing to the tune: o, o, o, to be free.
No cure for a ballerina encased.
No respite from the merciless brass key.
Forever plagued by the oppressive sound
Spinning around and around and around.