Skating in Harlem, Christmas Day

　　by Cynthia Zarin

　　 To Mary Jo Salter

　　 Beyond the ice-bound stones and bucking trees，

　　 past bewildered Mary， the Meer in snow，

　　 two skating rinks and two black crooked paths

　　 are a battered pair of reading glasses

　　 scratched by the skater's multiplying math.

　　 Beset， I play this game of tic-tac-toe.

　　 Divide， subtract. Who can tell if love surpasses？

　　 Two naughts we've learned make one astonished 0--

　　 a hectic night of goats and compasses.

　　 Folly tells the truth by what it's not--

　　 one X equals a fall I'd not forgo.

　　 Are ice and fire the integers we've got？

　　 Skating backwards tells another story--

　　 the risky star above the freezing town，

　　 a way to walk on water and not drown.