Ballet at Biarritz

From bar to barre,
looped rock to piped classic,
beach chic to ballet circus,

bodies assorted as taffy,
legs spongy as kelp,
we pack like awkward crabs,

gawkily assume first position;
stretching starfish in vivid tutus,
we feel our undertows pull –

demi-ronds on the damp sand,
a battement of stiff limbs,
a gallery of gray cloud,

behind our backs the ocean, hard,
the surfers getting worked,
jealous of our poise.