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Sara, 2014


"disconnected from her body"
"reckless with personal safety"
yes, I've read all of that but
they're wrong, you know.
my whole brain is math
calculations and percentages
quickly analyzing all of them:
the angles, the odds, the risks

the numbers never stop me
but I'm not that haphazard
I really like to know upfront
what I'm getting myself into
rushing headlong, eyes open
this isn't likely to work
this will probably end badly
this will definitely hurt

but oh how my heart lives
for the deliciousness of single
digit chances and the thrill
of that least likely path
a curving parabola from a
to b over a myriad of pitfalls
the rush of the eleventh hour
entrant winning out at last

grinning wildly I've never felt
more beautiful than to stand
before you, chest heaving with
exertion, bloodied and singed
tasting of survival salt and iron
mouth unmoving eyes shouting
my heart hammering marcato
finally, finally, finally

won one.