Once you lose your nerve, it’s over.
You might stay on your feet, thanks to
the laces you tightened until your fingers
could take no more. But you won’t enjoy it,
not when you’re thinking so much about every
wobble, whether your legs will slide out from
under you, like Bambi’s, and when every chunk
in the ice could be the one that brings you down,
and the only question is whether you will fall
forward or back, and if forward, which part
of your face will hit first, and whether
anything—glasses, teeth, skin—will
be broken, and also whether
anyone will skate over
your hands,
splayed in front of you as if in
supplication or defeat. It is a
shame, not to be in love
anymore, when the
moon is out, cold
and close as
the ice.
For NaBloPoMo and PAD Challenge, Day 24 (prompt: the truth about ____).
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
Such a rich life you have lived. I see it and feel it in every one of your poems. Whether they are happy or sad, they allude to so many textured memories and experiences. I have become a devoted fan!
Thank you so much! That’s really great to hear. I went through a long phase of not writing directly about my own experiences in my poems, and now I’ve been going in the other direction for a while. It’s wonderful to know that you’re enjoying these glimpses into my life!