My Downward Dog is sad.

My heels are filled with helium.

My hamstrings are stubborn

as Fundamentalists.

 

She has me take Mountain Pose

for five minutes.

 

I must have not been clear.

 

I want my soles to become one

with the mat.

At least not have a long distance

relationship.

 

What are you holding onto? she asks.

 

Nothing, I say.

 

She points with her green eyes.

 

My toes are humped-back, whitened,

in a death grip on the mat.

 

I lighten.

 

My shoulders drop. Gallons

of air flood my body.

 

Now what are you holding onto? she asks.

 

I do a body scan. I want to prove

I learned my lesson.

 

Nothing, I say meekly.

 

What about the idea

of not holding onto something?

 

She is doing a hands-on adjustment on my psyche.

 

My body sinks into itself,

then the mat.

 

I think we’re ready for

that Down Dog, she says.

 

I asked her to improve my postures.

She improves my practice.

 

With gratitude, I bow low.

Believing my heels will follow.

 

 

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Editor: Travis May

Photo Credit: Provided by author