Whether I run like antelope or pig,
it doesn’t matter, so long as my knees
can bend, my soles can lift,
I can bob and hit the ground
without pause for a set period.
The first half of the journey
is to test my patience, I keep up
like boiling water in a tea kettle,
till all the particles in it start to stir,
till the heart beats faster,
the breath shorter.
Till sweat starts to form,
then trickles down like steam rising,
I blow my whistle—
my cells rejuvenated, inflated,
like the cloud, on top
of the world, floating.
Zhihua Wang’s poems have appeared in Aji, Across the Margin, Eunoia Review, The Salamander Magazine, and elsewhere. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Central Arkansas and is currently a PhD student in Creative Writing at the University of Rhode Island.