Drip

I ready my mark
Put my fingers just before the line
On your marks, the referee shouts

A bead of sweat drips down my face
Boiling the skin it touches
Leaving a moist trail behind it
Curls around my chin
Hanging in suspense
But it can't support its own weight
It falls

Falls in slow motion
It hits the track
Instantly evaporated against the track

The blank fires
My legs shoot forward
With each stride, my shoes dig into the rubber
I see the finish line
The lactate hits hard
My breathing is ragged and coarse
I can't give up now

My eyes go black
My brain shuts off

I wake up with rub burns on my face
But I finished first
Victory is mine
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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