Marathoner

He hammered his heart until it was ready,

smeared some ointment where it was meant

to be and where it wasn't, laved it on his breath,

his child's favorite soap pipe, his eyes, his teeth,

the belly he'd sooner not have, the spooned meat

for the dog that had to come with him.

He flexed the bald soles of his bottommost bones,

his toes curling in as though afraid

of what was coming, then accepting the burden.

He did the required elongations, the rotations

his training manual forgot, readied his suspensions

of disbelief at what he was about to do,

steeled his eye and the muscles he could reach,

said his kneeldown prayers and faretheewells

and set off, as if a gun had told him, Go.