Poem

Footrace at Dusk

Across the pavement the shadow
ran ahead of me, the long hair bouncing
weightless at its shoulders
like some mythological Greek warrior
or Mohican daydream.
The faster I ran,
the faster it ran: arms pumping,
legs pounding. Fatigued, I begged
the shadow to stop and rest, stop
and share the secrets of its
speed, strength and grace.
As I slowed, my skeleton burst
through the hanging layers of my skin
and muscle. Tendons snapped
from bone. My skeleton chased after shadow
along the path of the open field and woods,
resonances of a dinner bell
sounding from beyond the neighborhood.