Poetry

Pond Skaters

In impro-lunar shades

they speed past each other,

gliding on the frozen pond.

Outsiders cannot speak Skate,

words melt in their mouths, through winter

they live on icicles, use them for balance

drill the layer, pull up water,

when their feet are widespread

on the surface, refuse to sink.

Catching light at an angle

sometimes they pair up,

only briefly on a tango tune

shades spin,  counting steps,

syllables of a makeshift language

in the mouths of bugs.

Veronica Fibisan

© 2014