Yoga Class


Inner-hale, exhale.

I close my eyes

to the instruction of the guru’s voice

and try to get in touch

with my breath.


The Caucasian man next to me

Sounds as if he’s


as air wheezes nosily out of him.

I wish he’s not settled next to me –

far too close for comfort.


We move into cat-cow

as the nymph in sheer tights

thrusts her butt onto my face

tight and taut,

twin globes of muscles

gagging me with envy.

I clench my double sagging behind

without much success.


Downward dog provides a

new perspective:

Hey sexy lady behind me,

yes you with the skimpy bra

your breasts are protesting

to be let out of the constraint.

I see my neighbour notices it too.


Tree is my favourite pose

for I’m strong in balancing on one leg,

unless it’s the dreaded dancer pose

then I regress to a hippo

among the graceful flamingos,

which brings a grin from my neighbor

showing more sympathy than empathy.


The voice moves out of his Buddha seat

and swirls around brave warriors,

now frozen to the count of eight.

My eyes follow as the guru

mumbles encouragement into

sexy lady’s ear which earns him a smile.

He passes me with hardly a glance,

as I wobble and sway,

to straighten my neighbour’s arm.


I hate the nymph,

as she rises to an elegant bow,

her hands clasping her ankles

her chin high in proud glory,

while I deflate like a rubber dingy.

My neighbor grunts,

like he’s about to expel a baby,

the way I did while giving birth.

I return his empathetic grin.

Don’t think he appreciates it.


From a bridge to the wheel,

I pant and push

to get at least a pose

worthy of an Instagram post.

At last I get it,

as I collapse into Savasana.

I’ve known all along,

I am but a corpse living a lie.


About vickychong

Just an ordinary woman.
This entry was posted in Humour, Me!, Poem. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Yoga Class

  1. We’re all living a lie corpses, but some of us are looking at the stars 🙂

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