Ode to Bolt (on defeating Gatlin)

Oh we have decided that this is what good and evil mean

what they look like running from the blocks

one untainted, one polluted by memory

(and extra testosterone)

and so the commentators and the fans decree

that just in time the day is won, the sport is saved

by the power of recovering legs pounding track

strides covering ground, arms and knees and core

all in a chorus of perfected equilibrium

singing between white lines in national colours

— Jamaica — in the personal capacity of an obligatory reference

to mythologies and weather, by Jove he’s done it.

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