The Winner (a tribute to Isaac Murphy)

Quietly resting
in the smoke
filled cabin...
the jockey waits
rather calm.
While in his
private box
above the finish --
A young smooth
hustler (considered
an expert by many.)
When quizzed he said:
"Audrain two-to-one --
Buchanan, never
a chance, heard she
caused Murphy some
trouble down
Nashville, bolting."
'Skies painted
mares tails' --
Air thick with
anticipation.
(I am frozen by
this moment of fear...
Easy, easy I thought.
Beneath my uneven
breath, a forlorn
sigh exposing
my tenseness.)
Fixed behind
the barrier:
primed, prepared,
ready for battle.
Bob Miles to the right.
Loftin to the left.
Thousands screaming
pushed, packed and
jamming the bleachers:
Suddenly, a roar --
the eruptions!
Then off...
fleeing swiftly
while time passes --
Images flashing
Kaleidoscope collage.
(Down the final
stretch, behind
by four lengths --
I make my final
move.) 'Knees
pressed firmly
into her
massive sides,
causing six
gigantic strides.'
Passing Bob Miles,
Audrain, Loftin,
Admiral --
Buchanan
an easy
winner
by two
lengths.