Winter Olympics
I don’t cry at weddings, haven’t yet
sobbed at a funeral, but you
have me tearing up in the waiting room
of the dentist on a Tuesday morning.
Only the Olympics. Only the grandeur
of the opening ceremonies and the gold
medal dangling from a neck. I understand
how it feels to not know yourself
outside of a certain space. Ice rink,
football field, small town. How lucky
how to come as yourself. Tiger stripes
in your hair, frenulum piercing as a
second smile. May we all shimmer
as we return to our bodies, as we wake
from the dream in which we love,
the dream in which we are spurred.
If ever you’re met with a loser
with leaves town match, that place
is not your home. You are a tourist
everywhere you are your authentic self.
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