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Posts Tagged ‘ice skating’

 

 

 

I skate alone,

lake ice smooth

beneath dull blades.

I spin and trace

slow figure eights

and lift my arms,

open wings.

Anyone watching

from a window

would see a girl

in her old black and red

snowmobile suit,

tripping on her own edges.

clumsy and faltering.

But I see flowers

being tossed

from the stands

to the rink.

I bend to gather them,

smile and wave.

No one has told

me yet it can’t

be done, this

dream, no one,

not even myself.

 

 

 

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When we tug at a single thing in nature, we find it attached to the rest of the world.
—John Muir

and so when I tug at the blue green ice
that marbles the top of the river, it’s no
surprise to find it connected to those mornings
when I was a girl and the lake was frozen
and I could skate all the way to the middle,
could follow the cracks and skate so far
I could hardly see my small yellow house.
I would lay down, face to the ice, and feel
the way the cold rose up to sting my check,
feel the chill seep through my winter clothes.
I would roll over and stare at the white sky
and wave my arms and legs in the angel pattern,
though there was no snow. And I’d stay there
a long, long time. In this way, I learned
it is possible to be warm even held by the cold,
and tugging at this, it is no surprise
to find it connects to everything.

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The woman
in green
veers right
to miss
a boy
in blue
careening
through
her memory
of
a girl
in white
who skated
lakes
on winter
nights
and another
boy
who skated,
too,
in one
mis-stride
all four
collide.

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