Footfalls on silence, we plod on
through dawn decision to level
streets, shave hills with pounding
feet. Shoes plop in pavement treble
beating time in pre-dawn measures.
Elbows chug astride knee pistons
driving tendons taut in tension as
headlights hover in ebony mist then
fade; we dodge maniac motorists on
road cunning as catchless thoughts.
Slippery as elusive oeuvre, inspiration
buckles as galled muscles knot.
Obliques cave in cramps that crank
up our pace; no braking to notice
the lone star’s retreat into space.
Tongue sweats saliva in protest
of run’s cruel demand for more
steam. We dip within reserves to rise.
We are Rocky over jagged shore.
Lines of lubrication; engines secure
in distance, powered by fatigue’s death,
as red clouds glow on our loco
motion of silence and breath.
•••Thea Rutherford works as a feature writer for the Nassau Guardian. She has a BA in History and Political Science from McGill University (2004) and a MS in Journalism from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign (2007). She has written poems since her high school days.