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Polarized by Josh Daniel 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                  Deniz Bilguatay

 

Do not resist when your coach stretches
your splits and straddles,
lays you on your back,
sits on one leg and pulls
the other above your head
until wriggling toes graze the floor.
And don’t forget the value of flexibility.
 
Breathe.
 
If your callused palms are sweaty,
dip them in the chalk box.
If the hardened skin rips,
revealing throbbing, infected flesh,
toughen up and tape it.
If your hair is mussed, fix it.
And don't forget to use hairspray
until your hair becomes a shellacked shell.
 
Breathe.
 
Salute the judge before you mount the beam,
a four-foot high, four-inch wide apparatus of doom.
Point your toes and raise your chin
as you move lithely across the leather surface
stained by the blood of your peers.
Spin like a ballerina on arched foot,
leap high
arms extended, head tossed back,
finish on one foot and pray to the beam gods
you don't slip on the landing.
Execute your tumbling with power and grace,
ariel elements, salto skills
defy gravity and make it look effortless.
 
Breathe.
 
Never show weakness. Never cry.
You are a porcelain doll,with spider-web cracks just below the skin.

 


 


How to be a Gymnast