Photo by Rachel Cotterill
______________________________
Skiing
She promised we’d have fun.
My best friend Olivia,
the child model with the perfect smile
and hair that flipped
perfectly over her shoulder.
She invited me on a ski trip.
She said we’d love the snow,
and I’d be as good as her.
I was thirteen years old
with braces: yellow, pink and green
elastics on metal, restraining
my adolescent buck teeth.
My mother dressed me in
my step sister’s decade-old
plum-purple snow suit.
It swished and wooshed
between my thighs,
cutting circulation off at elastic
boundaries at my ankles and wrists.
Our first ride down:
“Bunny Slope.”
Not enough for me.
Next I attempted a steeper incline:
a plumb drop towards
cabins below,
a maze of rocks and trees.
Snow plow failed,
skiis fell sliding down the hill.
There, on the ice, my kneecap popped
out of the socket—
it was an abnormal shape—
that boney sphere sitting asymmetrical
under thin blue skin.
I knew Olivia wouldn’t climb uphill
to find me.
The humiliating part was
calling out for help,
between gulps of snot and saliva:
realizing I never would be Olivia.
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8 comments:
How great is water!?
You can ski on it even when it's frozen. Instead of kicking up waves, you kick up clouds of snow. Instead of bikini babes, you have snow bunnies. And instead of sun burns you get snow burns. It's fantastic. The same thrill, year round.
Remember your shades.
Water is damn reflective as a crystal.
Skiing
She promised we’d have fun.
My best friend Olivia,
the child model with the perfect smile
and hair that flipped
perfectly over her shoulder.
She invited me on a ski trip.
She said we’d love the snow,
and I’d be as good as her.
I was thirteen years old
with braces: yellow, pink and green
elastics on metal, restraining
my adolescent buck teeth.
My mother dressed me in
my step sister’s decade-old
plum-purple snow suit.
It swished and wooshed
between my thighs,
cutting circulation off at elastic
boundaries at my ankles and wrists.
Our first ride down:
“Bunny Slope.”
Not enough for me.
Next I attempted a steeper incline:
a plumb drop towards
cabins below,
a maze of rocks and trees.
Snow plow failed,
skiis fell sliding down the hill.
There, on the ice, my kneecap popped
out of the socket—
it was an abnormal shape—
that boney sphere sitting asymmetrical
under thin blue skin.
I knew Olivia wouldn’t climb uphill
to find me.
The humiliating part was
calling out for help,
between gulps of snot and saliva:
realizing I never would be Olivia.
I think I'm going much too fast;
I knew I'd end up in a cast.
I'd cry but my eyes are icy;
This crash landing will be quite pricey.
Who knew flight would be so scary?
I'm going to kill Aunt Mary
For taking me down this death trap;
Assuming my neck don't snap...
In the north-eastern part of a country, whose name is linked with the three Ss of fun and laughter (summer, sun, sea) there is a place where people can go to enjoy a different S. The mountain is called Falakro (bald). The snow is thick, clear and eager to justify its home's name. However for me this mountain will never be the same...for all I now the name is Odet and her spirit lives there ever since that day. The day the cableway let you go and put you there among the snow...forever white, forever pure.
(For Odetty)
The biting ice
Makes no sound
As boot clad feet slip
On the downhill hurtling,
Catching the senses unaware.
Powder and pine blur into motion,
Freezing the air that burns at the lung,
Squeezing the blood into vessels contracting,
Pushing and pulling in every direction,
Descending through valleys
Untouched by the mighty,
Zipping past mountains that
Hold all their secrets,
Revelling fully
In freedom of motion,
The levelling plateau,
The long run is done.
P.S. Forgot to add that I've put a visual version of the poem online @ http://snipurl.com/amebs
S
Rather than ride up the lift and ski downhill,
I wonder if one can ride up and down the lift at will? What a thrill that would be, with no fear of surgery!
He has all of his gear ready to go
almost tasting the air's chill
before even attempting the outing
Anticipation fills him up
as he approaches the door
and he can feel the adventure waiting ahead
The first step onto the snow crunches icey trembles into his body
and he pushes himself onward
Just a little too fast
he lands abruptly onto his bottom
and looks up to the face above him
"Are you alright, son?"
With a tear in his eye
he nods his head and gets up
Standing firmly on the snow
he takes a deep breathe
and trudges onward
making it to his goal
He's seen the big guys do it on tv
looking so easy to him
wanting to do the same, he tries
The sunlight is fading away
as they pack the gear into the car
"Did you have fun, son?"
with a smile on his face, he nods
"Daddy, can we do it again tomorrow?"
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