In which a poet realizes he’d better exit a yoga class

After Man Ray, White Back, watercolor by William Eaton, 3 July 2018Along the floor of that class there rippled such rage,
As woman upon woman waited on mats which were not rafts,
For some soft music and exercises that thousands
Of penguins badly needing icebergs would not assuage,
Nor rid the women of even their coldest or sexiest
Or of so many other desires and drafts.
Such rage and such desire incompletely suppressed;
So much frustration submerged in our now becoming
Less lovely, yet increasingly customary environment.
My feeling was: all this is challenging for human beings,
To say nothing of any deeply cleansing breaths.
And so I tightly and carefully re-rolled my mat
Before taking with me, in my haste, too many less
Than charitable imaginings which I may work at
Learning (with a smile) to regret, but never repress.


  1. Love it! I’ll always think of it when I go to yoga class and there’s only one man out of 16 participants.

    • Women, make haste to love us,
      For we sing of wonders still,
      And we are the last thin cracks
      That progress has yet to fill!

      — translation of verse by Vadim Shershenevich

      Best, Bill

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