for Rakai and Taiaroa, my skateboarding boys
You see life as landscape:
features through which to maneuver,
slide, launch. Tensile body softens in air,
melts into its borders to express ease, a kind of
yes and please, eyes trained on ostensible landing.
Wood and wheels beneath feet, your choices are
art: each lift, glide, hurl of body and board
through air thick with concrete dust and
promise is a glimpse of your perfect intent.
You are this thing pressing—
hand against edge, foot against wall—
a flourish rather than an aggression.
A fist, but beautiful: flesh and bone, moving
sculpture, acrobatic initiation into
full-color life. How we bloom outward into
a million star-shaped patterns, explosions
of organic light—to land, finally, roll into the
next exertion, perfect line of creative
expression. Animal blaze of self unraveling,
opening, revealing itself to the sky.