In your life,
have you seen where we are
holding a banquet

for your beautiful experience
of a turquoise velour tracksuit,
and you don’t even have to attend,
we’ll mail you your award

at the lodge where you live
so you can hang it from the rafters
for all to admire as they ski in

and ski out, muttering your name
under their frozen breath
like a spell to prevent injuries,
the smaller ones, sprains and strains,

let’s say—and you will bask
in the fireside glow glinting from
your medal as it dangles there,

spinning because you have installed
a turntable, a modified disco ball,
but no one here dances, no one
will even try, and maybe that’s why

no one has a medal except you?