When fencing
Otter
My feet try to
Bounce, to
Flow
Attempting
speed, fluidity
That doesn't
live within these
Aging bones
With Tabby
Suddenly my
tip's aloft
Contemplating
phantom flicks
For which my
blade is
Much too thick
Facing the
Hungarian
My gait's a
clumsy mimic of his
Levitating
glide, his
Seamless segue
to a
Disengage and
lunge
And so,
throughout the salle--
With Werewolf,
whacks
With Dormouse,
Bouncing up
& down
Why can't I
simply
Fence like me?
Be true to
Badger self
Content to tease,
and dance, and
Squirm
Instead, my
opponents
Hypnotic, or
Magnetic
Draw me to their
Comfort zone
And out of mine
Perhaps I need a talisman of my echt self, my ur-identity
An anchor to my undiluted Badgerosity
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