Thank you to The Fourth River/Tributaries of Chatham University.
The Skater
Light snow
on the rinked field
and she’s axial out there
in her purple jacket.
She skates and scrapes like
ink into vellum.
Stops like cobalt paint
dabbed onto linen.
It’s hard to tell
if she wears white space well,
or is lost in it.
At edges, where wind
with thaw and freeze
have folded ice,
she jumps and recovers.
The old partner lifts
were just arms.
She can skate without them.
