The Steroid Angel
This butterfly with biceps,
this stainless-steel maiden
with five rings tattooed
to her ankles, dives
over the pool, then flutters
to the far side—the world’s first
gold medalist with dry feet.
On the center podium, listening
to that familiar anthem rise
toward the only flag
God trusts, she frees herself from the snare
drums, soaring with the trumpets,
toes pinioned to the very top
of that heavenly pole, home free.