Drama Queen Stomp-Out

Mirabelle emits a guttural screech,

blasts her left boot

into a rusted can of paint,

this mundane doorstop toppling 

like Sadam Hussein 

spreads an oily sheen

fluid flooding

green as April hillsides

now jitterbugging 

across the dance class 

floor while Miss Merkle

retrieves her wire-rimmed glasses

waving brisk farewell 

from her miffed middle finger

to her beloved but

kooky student,

this shooting star-pupil

Of chaotic 

Post-modern dance.