Thursday, June 21, 2012


so justly proud
she having scaled
that penultimate hill
not nearly the behemoth
that lay at the top
of the park still
to be ridden nonetheless
her bike a new thing
a new old thing
rewind and new wind
how proud he was
of her persistence
what made him
love her in the first place
she started
building to the rush
walking when
riding was the intent
pushing her resistance
up a hill
or two or three
she counted them
by their curve
their steepness
the distance to the
traffic light
at the top of the hill
she swore allegiance
to the hills
each one, one at a time
and then she talked
to her bicycle
spoke in a whisper
at first
tried desperation and
that did not work
she planned then
after each revolution
how her ride
in the park would go
the monster at
the top of the park would be ridden
so she became her own
hoarse after a ride
after awhile
it worked she understood
the road and dips and
what hills
what will
and after awhile
when she felt she’d
managed the
a heat wave
undid her
brought her back to
struggle and contemplation
she faced the hill and
said you do not own me.

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