The Juggler
The juggler had no innate talent or skill:
she learned the hard way, on the job,
by necessity, by way of endless repetition,
first one ball, then two, then three, then four,
her hands a blur of motion, her eyes tracking,
her feet skittering, and always
failure, the dropped ball, the resumption.
It has become habit now, compulsion
as much as requirement,
task overwhelming purpose.
She has no time to remember a time
before juggling, or even to imagine
a cessation of movement, simplicity, leisure.
Such things are forfeit, lost, balls in
parabolic arcs even through her dreams.
- © David Adès 2022
David Adès is the author of Mapping the World, the chapbook Only the Questions Are Eternal and most recently Afloat in Light (https://uwap.uwa.edu.au/products/afloat-in-light). He is the host of a monthly poetry podcast series, Poets’ Corner, which can be found at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLb8bHCZBRMBjlWlPDeaSanZ3qAZcuVW7N.
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