Untitled

I move with a compulsion, not so perfectly.
How I remember my girlhood--
the swift practices with Serioque,
the coronations beneath my balcony,
the Black Sea. I do not grieve, however:
the body of my child glimmers at the periphery,
blonde silken laughing angel with his face.

Somewhere he reigns. Cool bright smile,
the sun of white nights, constancy.
The universe not so big, then--
the multitudes that remember him
all gather in the arena, watching me
spin like a split top. Their love
is him, divided into millions
dotting the cold darkness with their
shining lips. I skate like one again.

I laugh, I glide. I whiz by
and take it all in, not like before.
I am a quick little sparkling thing,
a wink at the door--a parting kiss
blown, a decisive jump in the air,
a solitary ritual of hope--peals
of joy. I live everything, and
once again, just to be sure.
I am your ballerina out of
the music box, your artist's
soul, your evermore.


-Copyright 1997 by Rochelle Theo Pienn.


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Skater's Poetry Corner