Poetry Pushcart Nominee

You can’t call an aerialist your bae

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By Lynn Finger

Photo of acrobat in ballet shoes standing on a tightrope
Poem text reads: Because they have no slack, no rest in them. On the street they won’t cover ground, but prowl straight planes with toes out-stretched, seeking the level lines on any sidewalk. When you introduce them to your friends, you’ll find that any time not spent aerial and half-bird, they’ll let drop like a dead line. They are thinking about the next big rope walk, which they’ll say is transforming, energizing, as they become one with the sky, but then— you wouldn’t understand. When introduced to your mother, they’ll ask if she has any rope, the steel core counter-twisted kind, because they want to demonstrate the simple incredible poise they can hold between earth and sky, which only happens if you are doing it, but forget you are. Ask them to watch a romantic sunset with you, and they say how this reminds them of the time they were so far off the ground, they seemed to walk on the sun, footsteps seared, yellow, set on fire. Their heart is cable, their thoughts curl in twisted hemp, they can only see balance and where balance isn’t. They stretch life taut across a crevasse, feet searching for the next knot.

Lynn Finger’s poetry has appeared in 8Poems, Perhappened, Twin Pies, Book of Matches, Drunk Monkeys and Not Deer Magazine. Lynn is an editor at Harpy Hybrid Review and works with a group that mentors writers in prison. Follow Lynn on Twitter @sweetfirefly2 and @lynmichf on Instagram.

We we chose this piece: We love how Lynn plays with form to illustrate her point and the way she develops and intensifies the concept throughout the poem. The humor is understated, which works really well. It’s a fun yet lonely read.

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