The Sand Hill Review               http://www.sandhillreview.org 2009

Elegy with Roller Skates

For Rica Syquia

My hands in hers, she led me down

the pebbled path between our yards,

our shadows stammering out a waltz.

The way the gravel thrilled my calves

as I let go. And when I fell, how leaves,

or something darker, dimmed

her face. The way her bracelet caught

the sun while, bending down, she fixed

the straps and pulled me up, my hands

in hers. From her I’d learn to slip

the metal snug around my shoes,

where to use the silver key, and how

to fly. The last time by her bed,

she took my hands in hers the way

a dancer asks for one more dance

—and then let go.

Angela Narcisco Torres