Poem by Gori Stafa

FOR SLIPPING ON ICE
It’s an icy square that envelops you
With its cold hands, an icy square,
Where you are a struggle following the way
Of how a crystal door opens,
Where you are a disc for natural slides,
A whisper amidst whispers
For slipping, for not slipping.
Then it’s a guide
To perfect movements,
A wild embrace
And an icy embrace,
Waiting for a solution,
But also an anxiety that creeps into the nights
For slipping, for not slipping.
In this mixture of movements, of delays,
Of anxieties, someone goes
Imitating the withdrawn monster,
Avoiding the annoying lorgnettes
That capture some images
For slipping, for not slipping,
Where even the magic of magical shoes
Is broken.