Guest Editor Louisa Howerowe's Pick:
On Seeing the Body Hit Ice
by Arlene Ang
I saw geese.
Like that time in the London underground
when I stood too near the rail
and a thief brushed against me.
In the same way
the wallet flew from my pocket
to his hand,
I was snatched out
of the body as if double twists,
traveling at high velocity across the rink,
were surefire pickup lines.
Feathers lit up with stars.
I was thinking here it goes,
no body can survive or want to survive
that fall. But it did.
And a policewoman
returned the stolen wallet
after noting down
my age, profession, home address.
She wouldn't accept a drink for the road.
I remember
ordering Chinese
afterwards — not really
in the same way
as the body gritted its teeth
and asked the skating instructress
for more ice.