track and field
there was a guy in high school.
who threw the shot,
he had his own weird dance.
it began with the cold metal tucked under his chin
the thud of his first step
a spiraling, rising action
until the sphere was thrust away
shoved out
to meet the world.
pushing through the air
to land in the sand;
making a little puff of dust.
then the boy—bent over, his breath stopped,
his heart beat slowing,
squinted down the track
looking for the marker,
seeing his future.
how could we think that he was not graceful?
that he was not beautiful?
when we could see the love in his eyes and thrust of his heart.
Published on the Laundry Line, 30 September, 2025.
