Danger: poetry ahead

Back in the summer, during the weekly poetry challenge I do with my housemate (and distinguished children's author), Nikki, she chose the format: a cinq-cinquain. This is a poem of five verses of five lines each, with varying syllables per line, like so: 2 syllables, 4, 6, 8, 2. Everybody clear so far? 2-4-6-8-2. I didn't know what the hell I could write about, so I went to yoga instead. The result is now being made available on the internet for the first time:
 

Cinq Cinquain
(by Sweaty Head Jane)

Sweat rolls,
Torrid rivers,
Cascading endlessly.
So hot in here my breath feels cold—
Bikram.

Bikram,
you lithe bastard,
Your yoga has me hooked.
I sweat, well, superlatively—
ha ha.

Yogic
intensity—
Meditative? Perhaps.
Yet all I know is this drenched-head glow
is mine.

Wobble.
Teeter, crumple.
Lock that knee? I'M TRYING.
Balance? Not good. Flexible? Yes.
Merge these.

Yoga,
Bikram hot-style.
Steamy rooms of students
seeking strength, poise, love? All of the
above.