Lost Ballerina

If I must die young

Bury me in a music box

I'll be the pale ballerina

With dirt in her hair

Attach my painless feet

To the metal springs

And open the lid when you visit

Watch me rise up and piroutte

My arms overhead tickling

The dark night's belly until I'm dizzy

Until the stars melt

And spiral into a halo over my head

And I've stirred my death into the sky.