Romans we were not
and our bikes not as high
as Arabian horses
didn’t require
mounting and dismounting lessons
but our moustachioed
Wagnerian sports teacher
orchestrated with scornful frowns
the three-second pieces
of our great leaps and falls
acrobatic dramas compounded
presto on the carpeted run
fear hurled onto the springboard
touching the vault with sweaty hands
bad landing with hops and steps
at times paralysed ghosts stood
on the way to fame and flexibility
breaking our run and his fun
cancelling the turns in the air
our ascent to gymnastic glory
the pummeled mat sympathised
with our shaky legs
the august apparatus
a museum piece
never once budged.
(Sabine Huynh, published in The Last Stanza – An anthology of poems from Tel Aviv)