Patinage by Linda Dyson
A fragile girl
In frail attire,
Escorted by her prince,
Steps out upon a chilly sea of glass,
Transformed from human
Into airborne mayfly
At a glance.
And as the music swells
They swirl and glide
Like magic
On a silver thread of steel,
No longer man and girl
But butterflies entranced
Swooping, spinning, twirling
In heart-stopping traceries
Of acrobatic flight,
Defying gravity,
Balanced on one blade
At agonizing speed.
And then he throws her
Like gossamer,
Spinning threefold-
Impossible, it seems,
Yet artful in extreme.
Without a blink,
She lands one-footed,
Still sailing on,
Unbroken thread
Of motion….
And what, I wonder,
What impossibilities
Would she dream that night?
And then, triumphant pose,
Hands held aloft, it ends,
And, gliding swans transformed,
They waddle on dry land
Mere man and maid, once more.
Linda Dyson
Somewhere Else Writers Group 