This micro-essay is the work of Zach Savich.–TM
I go to the ballet and realize narrative in ballet works the same as narrative in poetry.
In a short story, narrative runs a reader through by running its course.
The beginning, middle, and end prove that time does not curve around us, but through.
In poetry and ballet, there may be a plot that provides structure: the lovers meet and one must sacrifice herself for the other, in the end, with dance, or maybe the book concludes at the sea.
But, beyond these broad structural strokes, narrative flares up more bluntly than we see in the expectation, intrigue, and suspense of short stories.
The principle dancers come together and we feel good.
They move apart, and we feel tense, expectant, while we wait for them to join again, which will give some relief.
Too much tension, you get a headache.
Too much relief, you get bored.
The expository ensemble scene in the first act, set in a country village, is only so we understand why the action must move into the underworld, which is where the slit-sleeves and hooping kicks become plausible.
You can find some of Zach’s poems by jumping here, here and here. He has lived and taught in New Zealand, Italy, and the midwest.