Late night po'tree

Its very late and I can’t sleep and I can’t bloody read. So instead I write..thank goodness for enlarged fonts!

In this particular little England life and this culture, I love my gym. For someone who works from home the time out is important. To someone who feels vulnerable being fast and fit brings confidence and to someone who is short and with a tendacy to be rather rotund, the gym is also imperative. Ah, but I am still able to see the dark side, yes Luke, the hamster- wheel halls of cardio machines, the women who make themselves sick if they don't run 10 kms a day, the men who make every moment a competition... (and the fact that sometimes the mindless repitition is so boring my teeth ache.) Today I saw two women who made me feel so sad....both were attractive but too skinny, wiry like terriers and yet they were there when I arrived and there when i left ........The tension in one woman's shoulder as she worked out in the hellish cardio hall broke my heart. This may not make any sense..and it is 2 in the morning..so i wrote a poem. (It willl make less sense but it is a poem so all is well.)

Running Nowhere.

A bundle of bones
Lifts a feather weight
Those endless mirrors!
Eyes red rimmed with
Salt sweat.

Running on the rubber treadmill
Grinding down like pepper.

That other one,
Who works out late
So people don’t
Stare at the way
Her thighs will never come together.

In the bag she punches
She sees her own face;
A thousand crunches,
(She pukes water)
A hundred push ups,
(Her arms roped with veins
She hopes will squeeze her smaller)
And in those whispering wall of mirrors ....?…

Running nowhere
Gaze fixed
Running on the rubber treadmill
Grinding down like pepper.

Running, hurting, running.

Where are you going friend?
Each mile only brings you closer
To the next mile and further away
From the home in your belly,
That beautiful life giving belly…….

Little sister,
Take your blood soaked sneakers off
Dance in the dirt
(Dance in the dust
That is the skin you have been shedding
So long)
Tear the rubber matting with your teeth and
Lie back and let the sun
Tangle your hair again.
You are still breathless,
Not with running now
(Breathe and breathe and sigh)
But
At last
With
Laughter.