Broken Sonnet
We skate on black ice measuring its weight
until it wears thin and then the leader
snaps the long line and the figure at the end
breaks
loose, careens, spun from the rest
over unexplored ice, so dark and smooth
the surface unscored and the high keening
sound of the wind in your ears as you rush
stunned by your incredible speed.
A door opens, a crack thin as the skin
on a pear, you understand the wind,
a membrane holding an orange segment,
a cataract between sight and blindness.
You slow, the next one comes up behind you.
No one skates alone out there for long.
– helen ruggieri