One Hundred Miles
Her knees look painful, all her joints
Look far beyond the comfort point,
And yet that buckle does anoint:
On hundred miles, she says she goes.
More movement in the kelp that grows,
Or changes in the corn in rows,
And I’ve seen faster glacial flows:
One hundred miles, she says she goes.
Visible, her mileage woes,
No longer nails upon her toes,
Her frame so thin, attracts the crows:
One hundred miles, she says she goes.
She’s drawn to run, it’s like a curse;
I’ve read this chapter, seen this verse,
Pursued by demons, maybe worse:
One hundred miles, she says she goes.
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