slip

It’s the type of beep that doesn’t occur in dreams
I am born desire and I wrap blankets tighter
but it only becomes clearer that the ice
is not going to melt
it doesn’t matter that yesterday I was a skater
I am a wobbly beginner, nervous steps shaky
hands clutching the wall
if I start wishing I was better I’ll fall
into temptation, it’s so much easier
to go to the sidelines, to sip hot chocolate
to watch everyone else who seems to already know how
it should be easy, or perhaps I shouldn’t do it
at all, it doesn’t matter that I used to reign over the rink
on hand-me-down hockey skates
that I started figure skating lessons too late
and never really wanted to be Tara Lipinksi
or Michelle Kwan but I wouldn’t have minded
some gold medals
red cheeks flush, brown eyes bright
I held out a hand for each family member and friend
and then skated ahead on carelessly confident legs
yet here I am slipping
no one gets a medal for simply starting their day
but we do it anyways
I look in the mirror
and begin to learn again.