In another life I am a figure skater. My wingspan soars me

higher. I bear feathers from each skeletal arm I use to strangle

the judges with, their clipboards cut right into their necks,

drawing the scores equal. I fly right upward,

right projectile on the floor, full of yesterday’s meat,

right holy. In this life where I am a figure skater,

I am also a bird, skimming over the ice in its half-melted state

to pick up any men I can find. Walk with me, I tell them. In my mouth I have

cut and plucked and extracted every part of my mangle and now

I reflect some sort of beautiful innard

sprawled out over the arena. You can walk inside.

You can drape your winter coat over the cage. You can slither; I

am digestible as I shuck myself away. I grow

unwombed. My uterus prolapses 

as I land the jump, and now they’re all too damn dead

for me to win.

In this life where I am a figure skater

I am taught by the very best of coaches, and I am

the very best of figure skaters. I win gold. I win diamond

and platinum. I win every award for my performance

as the littlest of girls, even when I was too tall

to get myself unstuck from the playhouse

so I was never quite right for the role. My coach

tells me that if I break myself up

into something smaller,

I have a better chance at winning.

I think of myself as a starship vast,

life support sucked up by my toothless

wolfing, releasing all of its weaponry

into the void as it spins on abandoned.

I think of myself as an animal 

with multiple jaws. In this life

I grow up wanting to be 

a marine biologist—

I become a figure skater instead.

I work with the frozen form

of every dream I have ever had,

dancing across divinity & slicing

it up beneath my feet. And I am graceful.

I’m so fucking graceful that the ice

itself cannot pull away. Score me.

Rate how I feel. Nine out of ten?

No – seven? Was I really that bad?

Do you want to try me again?

I won’t stop dancing for you.

I’ll spin for you. Look into the spiral

and watch the pendulum. I’ll jump

for you. I’ll jump and I’ll make

it really land this time. If

I could go back in time I don’t

think I’d let them do the surgery.