Free skate

There’s the moment between the cut of the skate
entering the jump and the jar of the landing
when he holds there, in the air triumphant, wavering
in the space between the try and the do,
cradling the crowd, or the crowd cradling him,
every breath held at the apex of the lung

and there’s the moment after the landing,
the waver there in the ankle, the shin, the thigh
steady, skating out of it smiling with
the triumph shining through the cracks in the ice
shooting above the crowd, filtering down
in the cold air, settling finally
on his upturned face full of himself, the crowd.