The skin below your eye was the colour of the ugly scar the river cut between the reservation and the town.
On either side you learned the value of a getaway.
Your cousin’s new stopwatch- it stops the time but can’t stop you.
“Runners take your positions.”
The gun is fired.
That night you raced the bridge the builders left to fall apart.
Through scaffolding and sky, the end was not the finish line.
“Runners take your positions.”
The gun is fired and they’re off.
The heart is only ventricles forcing blood cells to leave home and disappear.
The heart is only a muscle working.
It keeps me moving away from here. I’m a runner.