trust,” she mumbled, rubbing her knees,
looking up at the slackened rope,
then the concerned young man by the tree
who had so skillfully unwound it.
“Oh, abracadabra,” she muttered, losing
her first limp toward the tree, and tying
all the knots again. She swung herself
into the proper branch, and in grand manner
threw into the audience a fragment
of torn lace that had been trailing
from the outer layer of her skirts.
“It's all a matter of trust,” she declared
and danced her way into the well-strung line.
And as she did her saltos in the center,
the confused young man cried out:
“Lady, I was only worried. If you had to
fall, I wanted you to do so early,
when the risks were relatively mild.
Not later on. Not now.”
“Thank you, young man,” she called down with a bow,
then, taking her good time, she danced along
into the open arms of the opposite tree.
26
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2159 views
39 comments |
170 words
All rights reserved. |
I dedicate this to Meg Pokrass's Tightrope Walker piece (which, I notice, has already disappeared from Fictionaut posting--still yet . . .)
First published in Focus (1983) under my prior name Beate Goldman; now also in my 2018 book Xanthippe and Her Friends.
fav
Very nice! Couple of complex truths here.
An poem for the act of writing and high risk taking...walking lines on air...
FAVE
Beautiful, as always. Steps lightly along a well-strung line.
Good to see you back. The neighborhood was gettin' a bit shabby without you 'round. (Smiles).
Well done, Beate. Really like the voice. The piece works.
David, Matt, James, Sally, Sam--thank you for your comments and/or faves. I'm pleased this ancient tightrope walker is still balancing along.
loved this character!
yes, yes! nice work. i have a tightrope piece out with an audio site, hoping they pick it up. i'll post it here soon regardless. well done.
Delightful, the playfulness of this and the perspective. Dazzling, too.
Fave.
Christopher, James, Robert--thank you for your comments. They mean a lot to me. James, I look forward to your Tightrope Walker piece. If I had another life, I think I'd love to be a trapeze artist (among other things).
Late coming to this, Beate. Wonderful twists and turns of thought here.*
Thanks, Joani, for your comment on "The Tightrope Walker's Demonstration." I tried to post on your wall--which doesn't seem to work these days, but wanted to say: "Final Notes:" now there's a fictional title if I ever saw one.
Ha! Yes, after I decided on the title, Final Notes, and sent it to the publisher, I realized I was jinxing any career aspirations I may have had to be a writer with traction, wasn't I?
Neat! I love how this works and tugs you right along to the end.Wonderful piece of writing.
I love how she seems to be floating.
nice piece
Thank you, Darryl and Estelle, for your comments. You make me happy. (I need it today: I have a cold and my head is swimming, but my body is lagging.)
wow..prior name or not ..hell of a piece! (THE SOUND OF TWO HANDS CLAPPING!) *
Thanks for clapping, Michael! She loves applause.
very nice
Lovely Beate. The word 'saltos' has a wondeerful lilt in this piece, and the ending makes me smile. Peace *
I am your 13th fav! Is that unlucky somehow?
Beautiful piece of work, Beate. I have friends who make their living as rope walkers. They'll appreciate this. Bravo!
Michael, Linda, Zum, Sean, thank you so much for your comments and faves. Zum, no, 13 is not unlucky. 13 is my favorite number, it is "the" feminist number in my book (13 moons, 13 fairies in Briar Rose, etc.) If anything were unlucky, it would be 12, the patriarchal number par excellence. (12 solar months, 12 disciples of Jesus, etc.)
Beate there is so much light in the sadness here.
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I read this yesterday but I had a fictio-glitch and wasn't able to post anywhere. I wanted to say: So elegant. *
BTW, my daughter and my mother were born on the 13th. It is our lucky number, too.
*tweeting!
Thank you, Penny. Thank you, Meg. Penny, maybe either your daughter or your mother were also born on a Friday? That would be extra lucky, because Friday is the only day of the week named after a goddess.
A lovely poem, Beate.
"“Oh, abracadabra,” she muttered,..."
Love that!
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Thank you, Bill. I'm particularly fond of the "Oh, abracadabra" myself.
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Thanks, David!
What wonderful illumination, Beate. I love this.
“It's all a matter of trust,” she declared and danced her way into the well-strung line." *
wonderful
"oh abracadabra" love that *
Thank you, Jane.
I love the open feeling of this, the almost whimsical nature of her approach. I love her relationship to the young man, to herself, and to the tree. And the last line is such a neat finish.
!!
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Michelle, thank you so much for your kind words.
From the limp and the mumble to the dance and declaration -- playfully, joyously triumphant! And now it joins the "25-Fave Club"! Congratulations. ;-)
Very nice little narrative.