(no subject)
Three. Left hand raised to the heavens,
Two. Red flag fluctuates in the air
and the (One.) hundred plunge ahead:
long strides glide down the hill,
quick little steps back up, up, up!
calves flexed, burning thighs and
high, slick ponytails flick,
licking necks
the sun scowls (radiates, heats
and seethes and
radiates heat)
Throat dry and cringing,
all fluids vaporize
Inhale.... exhale
Eight minutes, forty-two seconds: Harsher
breaths and
arms stiff at your sides, victims to
the exertion of gravity.
Roots besiege; crawling 'round
vermilion ankles
and the soles of your shoes sink
into moist mud.
Inhale, exhale
Twelve minutes, twenty-five seconds: blurred spectators
on mute and legs that could crumble any second.
Limbs contrast punctured lungs and a burning esophagus.
You are a newborn (forehead
damp and palms moist) leaving the womb
and entering dimensions where
concrete pain sustains.
Gasping for first breaths
multiply with each mile you run.
Nearing the finish line, meeting the last hill.
Inhale exhale.
An enigma: ten meters to the peak and somehow renewed.
Legs propel and accelerate as arms churn,
pulse palpitates, and
heavy footsteps
echo through
your lightheaded daze;
toes colliding with
the finish line.