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Look down at the bar. Push it with my foot.
My coach said not to do that, because
it makes it feel heavier. But that’s his magic,
not mine. Bend, put my left hand
on the knurled metal, fourth finger
aligned on the groove. Then the right hand.
Plant my feet firmly. Bend my knees.
Raise my head to straighten my back.
Draw three breaths, then dip my hips,
drive the thighs up. The bar springs from the floor.
Shrug, and split under the bar, feeling
the cold hard steel against my chest.
Settle; then jerk the bar up again,
splitting beneath it until my arms are straight.
The bring my feet together. Stand,
The bright bar steady above my head. Down.
Drop it clanging to the floor and turn away.
I do it because
it feels good.
The conquest of the iron, the blood
Pumping in my body.
That’s all the reason there ever is.
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