A butter knife would have to do
being that the skate broke late, last night.
Although the morning awakened,it was still dim enough
to see those thoughts were
silently creeping into his head again,
he knew that there was work to be done –
he had to get started where he left off before the break.
An hour passed and he had yet to make it sharp enough.
He was being meticulous to a fault
-all that detailed attention, his vice,
he lost himself as he wished the possession of beauty more than the act itself.
After three hours of tinkering and toiling over it,
he submitted to the status quo of it,
then packed the preformed carrying case,another aesthetic vice,
and left for the other side of town.
Once he arrived inside
the chill of pumped-in air and the odor of sweat
gave tremendous trepidation to his professional status,
but he forged on and strapped on his objet d’ art.
A distant sound of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was his cue
and before the crowd could lull their excitement
he went out, center ice and skated with the conductor’s direction,
which enveloped his soul and clouded the fact
that a butter knife can’t possibly hold his weight when he lands
from a triple axle.
~dld Oct. 12, 2010
Prompt = A Butter knife would have to do