by Sandra Marchetti
It’s something in the glide—
the ridge of your nose, the jawline.
When I saw you costumed
and complete, another self
appeared—raising his gloves
to 20,000 and requiring them.
Darting eyes and untrained
lips, whatever your faults
in this you are a master—
the blades say your name again.
I glimpse each morning
you spent circling a blankness
in exchange for your garden of ice.
Sandra Marchetti is the author of three full-length books of poetry, DIORAMA (Stephen F. Austin State UP, 2025); Aisle 228 (SFA UP, 2023); and Confluence (Sundress Publications, 2015) as well as four chapbooks of poetry and lyric essays. You can find out more at sandramarchetti.net. She identifies as a poet of chronic pain and disability.
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