April 20, 2022 | Poem and photos by Ryelin Segars
This poem is part of Atrium’s Winter 2022 issue. To view the print edition online, visit our Issuu here.
My body cracks like the concrete
below my urethane wheels. The blood-soaked Maplewood
snaps a consistent rhythm, a sensation both light
and heavy. I, the knee-padded magician, work magic
tricks — alchemically working the fire and earth
concoction bubbling in my soul,
a mesmerizingly elemental performance — an eager soul
seeks baptism. Levitating above concrete
while photographs freeze fusions between solid earth
and spirit: my reconceived essence molds the Maplewood
into an electricity converter. Reconsider my elegant magic —
the great work — as science soaked in moonlight.
Now ghosts administer light
into my circulatory. Sunshine rays pierce my soul
as my bones scintillate fireworks — behold elemental magic
as eurythmic flecks dance inside my irises. I know the smooth concrete
reverberating bliss below my soles. My Maplewood
machine traverses the terrestrial giver you call Earth:
the creator, the apathetic stabilizer, and the unconditional lover. I know Earth.
I know the sky. Did you see me fly? A flash of alabaster light
consumed me, and I was Icarus. My body sprouted Maplewood
roots as I fell at breakneck intensity. My spitfire soul
was bombarded by concrete
shockwaves and I knew pain. My dreams are magical
movements of halcyon music. I know magic.
My body oscillates between earth
and air. My board osculates the concrete
in blissful serenity. I become light
inside and my soul
floats atop the safety of my Maplewood
as all three realms collapse, and yet, my Maplewood
remains intact. The demonstration of practical magic —
the great, physical work — pure alchemy. I’m an old soul
stained blotchy with earthy
scuffs, but guarantee my steez when surfing the cosmic light
illuminating the stationary swells of Team Pain’s concrete.
Blood rush adrenaline, freeze framed earth:
a delicious pour. Mesmerizing light
obliterates the cloud suffocating my degenerate soul.