Pre-Figured Skates by Mary Lou Meyers

Photo by Sue Meyers, Mary Lou’s Daughter
Like Sky Writer’s on Ice,
I still see their forms and figures,
pointe and pirouette, leaping
tour en l’air triggered their scripts
aided by Music of the Spheres
with figure eights and valentines,
barely touching the scarred ice
of McGuillvrey’s Pond.
Weaving in and out of our doubts
when we saw shadows
with symphonic shifts of ice, they
richly endowed with skirts high-born
above brave legs
defied even the coldest days
uniting our scattered Beings into
something rich and meaningful.
Plain and unadorned, but seemly,
we praised their exalted forms,
while we shivered and quaked
with hockey skates,
their buoyant lives reborn
each time they escaped to the ice.
Our still born thoughts
grounded in doubts
barely propelled us;
even our body heat
steeped in blankets
gave us no relief;
while our insular lives
concave at best
kept repeating themselves——
magnified by bulky sweaters
and heavy-duty legs
our earth-bound futures
were ready-made;
soon to be wives and mothers
a poor excuse
for these anointed figures
held in space with singular grace
vaulting to such lofty heights.
Soon to be defaced
by the lost luster
with their concrete futures

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