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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2253378
A round peg, a square hole - par for the course
A round peg in a square hole? Well.
To have a club foot and become a champion skater
Is corrective surgery, training from childhood, and will.
Kristi Yamaguchi did it, still.

But to train daily, Kristi, from the age of three?
The three-year-old you skated smoother than me
It’s true it’s a grand sport to try
Meanwhile years glide, jump, spiral by

Here’s me with falling memories, with crashes unknown,
Many years grown
I won’t realize my malady —
I won’t till I do. Still think (say) I’m strong?

We weren’t patented toys after all
For hyper-flexible demands.
I kneaded my need, soft ice in my hands,
Saying, “this must be that shape now” —
10 cramped years of experience.

Perhaps it’s just me but I think that either
The round peg has to be so very small
That it slips on past whether it fits at all
Or it hurts until the square hole
Spin-blades it into edges

Life named itself “square” in the end
For me (and I never really met her)
In the Kiss and Cry (me, Metro, not Olympic Ice)
it whispers
conversation, friend to friend.
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