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Little Skater, Age 14.

Little Skater, Age 14

   How effortlessly our ingenue teeters on a blade
   yet holds the right inside edge into the three-turn, lets
   the turn take her, arms wheeling, back arm snapping forward
   to stop the turn into backward glide, hands pressing down on air,

   all of her arriving smoothly into attitude, back leg extended,
   tip of her left skate pointing at a cloud beyond the thermopane.

   She stops, stands looking down at her feet, pretending
   to be unhappy, her coach saying, "OK, OK.... now, again,
   head up, leg higher coming out, and make the turn tighter.
   See the "three" in the ice, how the top lobe is swollen?"

   But I think her already perfect, that we've never left
   The Garden, and that gods need us to be more so is breaking us
   all over the world, while she skates to the boards, tips her
   crystal bottle of water, a little shake of her hair ... just so.
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Author:Nelson, Paul
Publication:Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature
Article Type:Poem
Date:Mar 22, 2014
Words:156
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