Poem by R.M. Dolin, February 28, 2024
New York City Marathon
My vector turns
decidedly east to await
horizons hidden in
the promise of shadows.
It’s still winter with the race
nine months out
but already my runs
grow increasingly long,
as if it’s possible to
outlast demons
forever at my heels
or memories of her touch
that linger in
the recurrence of moments ago.
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