Winner’s Circle

I thought it was the knot
in the bamboo. I thought
it was the steel. But it is
the leg, amputated and aching
after falls and Winter. It is the crook
of a mouth when you’ve come
through, not quite a smile.
It is napping now, the depression
after the gin and balloons
crowding through every door,
twice. It is the resolve
to start over again, tomorrow.

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