learning to skate
silent words shuffle into cautious lines
scoring ice with impermanent design.
you and the poem teeter alone
on the pond, a balancing act -
arms outstretched, your red overcoat
smells of mothballs and smoke,
underneath one thick glove
a cigarette burn chafes.
untried muscles tremble
tied to second-hand skates,
you enter into something
which cannot be named.
all roots and prayers left ashore,
words in mind gracefully align
with a strange sense of lightness,
nothing to hold.
cold air from your nose
swirls in your throat - then
you turn, and more or less
glide, half degas dancer
striking out toward the centre.
the winter sunshine dazzles you.
April 9th, 2007 at 8:34 pm
wow.again