I used to skate and skid
drawing lines upon the ice
when girls could sing and
smile through wire braces
Letting go of the perimeter
wall felt as freeing as jumping
ino a volcano, airborne over
the bubbling hole.
And when I let go, I mashed
my soles into the blades,
drilling my pace into the
skate-chiseled floor.
My arms jerked and my face
contorted on its own, and it was strange
to be shaky toddler once again
with frequent smashing plummets.
But I never drew blood, angered
over my feeble feet. It was Sharon
who sliced her finger, red drops
dainty on the ice, cutting herself
with her own silver blade.
Crumpled and down for the anguish,
she laughed and cried, as I circled
her with mincing steps, absorbed
more by the round blood dots that
refused to freeze, refused to melt.
copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez
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