In the Long Run


I was a girl of dashes. Half
Morse, no marathon. No 440.
50 yards at best, 100 in a
stretch. Heat. Lashes

laced with sweat, spent.
Everything left on that track
in just a few seconds. Flat.

Light. Sound
(and silence)
signals caught,

for someone to dot


Prompted by Poetic Asides


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3 Responses to In the Long Run

  1. Brilliant. This is stunningly brilliant! I’m going to go read it another five times! ❤

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