by Tammy Smith
It’s impossible not to yell
“That’s what I’m f**king talking about!”
knowing she nailed it.
“That’s what I’m f**king talking about!”
knowing she nailed it.
High above the ice,
even the Quad God
can’t hide his grin.
Nothing compares
to the joy of watching
her land a triple flip.
The globe spins with that power.
Bliss like this is contagious.
I should return to the rink.
Dig out my old skates,
wipe down the blades,
sharpen them.
Leave doubt in the arena.
Lace rage tight inside leather.
Release. Rise. Glide.
Tammy Smith is a poet and licensed clinical social worker living in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in The New Verse News, Oddball Magazine, ONE ART, Grand Little Things, Paterson Literary Review, and elsewhere.
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