№ 8 on Thin Ice
Long after the crystal snowfall, № 8 skates on a pond.
It is not a frozen pond, as now the summer is near
& the blades of her feet cut into water. The mind is murky,
but the skates take № 8 out of the soup, for the blades
are wings, the wings of Mercury. So many secrets № 8
has hid from the dim pond out of which the amphibians
creep. When she looks back at the rink, what strikes her
is the beauty & cunning of her curving. The water
is plausible though far from clean or translucent. To №
8, whether feigned or authentic, the pond seems verdant.