Mind Games

an olympic odyssey

Marina Lakotka/Unsplash

The catcher-snatcher
of precious gold,
chalk-dusted since 1896,
always open to doubt,
but needing to believe,
forever resting
in the chiton lap
of Victory.

No longer a pursuit
for the gentle amateur,
a fear of lesser metals
has wormed its way
into hearts and minds,
while capillaries split,
and ventricles shift in the
ultimate quest.

There’s always going to be
an outside smoker
to your empty swings,
a moment in time
favouring the green shoots
over-shooting.

We dread the long side-step,
the inclement hubris
brooding over bitter strokes
in scalloped lanes
where shiny hopes
once stretched to the horizon.

Never was achieving gold
more toxic an alchemy,
turning sinew to straw
in the…