Sprinter
High above the track
the prize hangs suspended
huge and golden like a sun.
I am done to a turn,
juices of my slick skin
oil my piston limbs.
The track is mine –
calm king cat
lion strides ready to devour.
I will pour myself
down the white lane
flood tide racing.
This is my Tao -
still mind
quick body.
I wagered my youth for this day,
through vomit and exhaustion
balanced pain against triumph
its taste presaged
in deceitful dreams
making me want it more.
Now I fill my chest,
breathe in power and will.
When the pistol fires
I reach up for the prize
like standing on a mountain peak
pulling the sun down.