Faith, Part 2

At the break

Beset, behind and 

Not sure what to do

You hand me water and your 

Best advice

Gnomic utterances 

Seemingly divorced from

What just happened on the piste

“Keep distance about one foot farther out”

“Weight on your back hip”

“Get in close and bounce”

Never clear directions for the touch

Nothing so distinct as “parry circle six riposte” or

“attack to her flank”

I see absolutely no path forward

Doing what you say

It’s about as promising as “run into that wall!” or

“Pet the cat!”

Or simply

“42!”

But being out of options I 

Shrug off doubt

Abandon rationality and

Try exactly what you say

And score the touch

To your delight

Offset by rue that

I look so surprised

Resolved

To sometimes

Let myself sleep late 
Linger under covers 
Pinned by cat

Skip the gym
And soak my aching
Bones instead

Break from bouts
Lay down the blade
And chat 

Eat a second slice of cake
Drink hot chocolate even if it
Doesn’t snow

Leave an item on the daily list 
Unchecked 
Maybe even two

Exercise a bit of 
self-compassion trusting that
the world won’t end 

Faith

It’s humbling to realize that

More than half the time I

Don’t know what I did

That is to say, I know I

Held the blade and

Not my breath

Kept the tension in my legs and

Not my arm

But in between “allez” and “halt” occurs

A sequence of events I

Can’t unpack

Evidently

I did good

The light came on the

Hand flashed up 

Awarding me the touch

I’m just saying (full disclosure)

What happened in between is 

Something of a mystery

I can live with that

In my dreams when

I take flight 

The most important thing is not to 

Wonder how

Lest doubt rescind my wings

Broken Time

After warming up

Awaiting referees

Pool sheet being signed

A lull before the storm

Quarter finals done

The long, fraught wait before 

Ascending to the elevated strip

And briefer still:

Staring at the weight and willing it to rise

Pausing while my opponent adjusts her hair

Idling ‘round the podium, awaiting bling

(and craving lunch)

Fragmented time adrift from work or home or news

A temporal dimension safe from everyday demands 

Interstitial moments that define the competition

Just as much as fighting for the touch

Trade-off

Sleet patters on the dormant yard
On the sill cats pose with slitted eyes
Contemplating domesticity
Comparing sheets and laps
and radiator's warmth
to wildness and freedom
to hunt and stalk and pounce

And turn away
Smug in the rightness of their choice

Nevertheless

Ladies, listen up

This is not a poem

It’s a manifesto

One I hope you print and nail up on the

Entrance of your salle

Read it every time you enter

and

Review again on your way out

I see you

Rage against the normal vagaries of

Imperfection

Blame yourself for falling short of your own

Impossible ideals

I see you

Incriminate yourself

As lacking talent

Never working hard enough

Being just pain dumb

I see you

Self-flagellate

Lest your results not prove to

Spouse, partner, children, colleagues

Coach

That all that time was worth

The late nights, cold dinners,

Miles spent upon the road

Dollars spent on lessons and on gear

Plane fares, hotel rooms and registration

Co-pays to the doctor, trainer, therapist et al

Bullshit

Here’s my thesis:

You are heroes

Every one of you

Heroes—did you hear?

Not “heroines”—diminutives need not apply

You persevere through

Broken blades, bum knees, bad weather,

Clubmates who get better faster than they should

Teenagers who, now one year older, can’t be touched

Coaches who indulge their temper and their tongues

Podiums that stubbornly remain

Just of reach

I also see you

Fix the broken blade and bind the knee

Brave blizzards lest you miss one lesson

Cheer your teammates when inside you want to cry

Even after the worst practice

The most abysmal competition

You throw the stinking uniform into the wash and

Rise to do it all again

So,

Next time the black dog tries to take you down

Next time you’re tempted to apologize

To anyone, for who you are and what you do

Next time you feel you have to justify the choices that you’ve made

Remember

In the face of all the crap thrown at you by the world

You persist

And all of us,

This league of super veterans

With sore joints, grey hair, and 

Badass attitudes

We’ve got your back

Rumpus

Some systems focus on the arm, wrist, fingers

Synched for elegant conclusions:

Coupe, glissade, a clever bind or crafty disengage

Some bang on speed and power

Bigger, badder, faster

Training youth to send

Feet flying down the strip

Our salle’s attention lies—well, somewhere in between

Below the waist, above the knees

To be precise—the buns, butt, tooshie, tuchus, derriere

You’d be amazed to learn the

 Numbered permutations for

The angle, depth and flexibility of

Glutei—both minimus and max

Are you squatting deep enough?

Is your tailbone scooping in, or out?

Are your hips, the muscled cradles of the bum

Loose enough to sway and boogie with the best?

Limbered up to launch a proper lunge?

Now you have the key decoding

Covert coaching signals from our staff

When next you see them stripside

Throwing opaque signals

seemingly to make us

Hula, samba, sashay on the piste

You'll know they're only trying to

help us land the touch we missed

Serendipity

Rocketing awake

Cat nose on my face

Flashed with heat

Flush with irritation

Throw off the sheet

Ransack the drawers

Jam feet in sneaks

Bolt out the door

To find that

5 am is cool

and dry

Pale light balm to August eyes
Arpeggio-ed by birds

Blessedly bereft of

Traffick

Cranky crowds

Sidewalk barren but for

Dog walker here

A fellow runner there

All with smiles for a member of the

Secret club of

Not-asleep

"Attack of the Killer Badger" from
Magic Forest

Transgressing

Suddenly, your wrist is
fascinating
Your toe
an object of desire
Your knee--oh, show it to me,
Please

Devoid of inhibitions
Untethered from the complex etiquette of
Who goes first
The nicities of foible versus forte
I will embark on licensed mischief
Revel in the freedom to
Do anything I want with my off hand

Blissfully oblivious
Ignorant of what I'm supposed to do
Free to be a newbie once again
Swanning in unrated to muck up the
Seeding of the pools
This should be...amusing

But--I have been warned--
Prepare for epic bruises

The Giving War

You gift me a
Well-considered bruise
Bestowed with grace and
Chased with chaste massage to
Mitigate the pain

I reciprocate by
Nearly taking out your knee
Formidable contusion

This pacific interchange, this
Tit-for-tat
Yields dented masks, torn socks
--but rarely ends in stitches--

We're merely swapping marks of
Tangible affection
A catalog tattooed upon the hand and arm and leg
A testament to friendships sealed with
Just a little bit of blood