08-28-2023, 06:37 PM
Hockey Dad at Free Skate
He slides onto the ice with two young daughters
who got hockey skates for Christmas
because he doesn't have sons.
They follow him like ducklings in a row—
newly hatched, wobbling toward the pond.
He skates backward to watch them
until the speakers blast Bohemian Rhapsody.
Then he pivots forward, gaining speed,
feet over feet as he breezes
around the ice. His nervous chicks
scramble to follow, but nothing really matters to him
except the high notes he's hitting
that ricochet off the metal bleachers,
and the invisible instrument he grips
in his gloved hands. He starts racing
a pack of 12 year olds in black padding
like he's a mighty duck and they are hawks—
always hungry, stalking their prey at night.
He thrills to the challenge
of this newfound rivalry,
while his girls cling to the wall of the rink.
Huddled underneath the Russian flag
suspended from the ceiling,
they're trying to catch his eye.
But, he's fighting that flag like a dream from the past,
when he gripped his prey like a hawk in the night,
eyes wide alive for passion and glory—
the predative gaze of ravenous tigers.
He slides onto the ice with two young daughters
who got hockey skates for Christmas
because he doesn't have sons.
They follow him like ducklings in a row—
newly hatched, wobbling toward the pond.
He skates backward to watch them
until the speakers blast Bohemian Rhapsody.
Then he pivots forward, gaining speed,
feet over feet as he breezes
around the ice. His nervous chicks
scramble to follow, but nothing really matters to him
except the high notes he's hitting
that ricochet off the metal bleachers,
and the invisible instrument he grips
in his gloved hands. He starts racing
a pack of 12 year olds in black padding
like he's a mighty duck and they are hawks—
always hungry, stalking their prey at night.
He thrills to the challenge
of this newfound rivalry,
while his girls cling to the wall of the rink.
Huddled underneath the Russian flag
suspended from the ceiling,
they're trying to catch his eye.
But, he's fighting that flag like a dream from the past,
when he gripped his prey like a hawk in the night,
eyes wide alive for passion and glory—
the predative gaze of ravenous tigers.