1 and a half miles
the starting line
hushed anticipation
nike sneakers shuffling against
the sickly orange spray-painted
line as girls size each other up put
themselves down my
heart is jackrabbiting the
whistle blows
1 mile
high ponytails swish in
rhythm with frantic feet the
bottles of water I had chugged
sloshing in step filling
my lungs
½ mile
the woods are so calm I
almost forget its a race and
that i will be placed as a tally
lined up against all the other
girls my performance just a
number down to milliseconds any
time more than your previous race
a failure
500 feet
the finish line is
in sight
my legs my arms my
hands flailing wading through
the heat the
expectations of the crowd the
coaches the teammates screaming from
the sidelines the burn in my
chest is a welcome beast telling
me i did the best i could even
if i could never be
the best
YOU ARE READING
metamorphosis
Poetrya collection of poetry written during quarantine, the tumultuous 2020 school year, and the entering into a post-covid world. randomly updated.
