This poem was inspired by my new pedometer.
A tapered oval three inches long, half as tall,
like a cheetah’s eye with a corner “Mode.”
Clipped to her belt, its stares ahead at their
daily terrain: corridors, stairwells, halls,
playgrounds, parking lots, aisles and aisles.
A sleek silver mascot which cheers her on —
longer, further, faster. She thinks her stride
is growing more smooth, her thighs more firm.
The higher the day’s count, the younger she feels
and safer, too, no longer dreading packs of
hearing aids, pacemakers, 911 necklaces.
…..Each night on her bed stand, she re-sets it.
…..Two zeroes watch as she sprints in her dreams.
those five zeros. They watch her as she dreams.
by Therese L. Broderick
FACT and FICTION in this poem: The description of the pedometer is accurate. I did a quick search online to confirm that my pedometer is roughly shaped like a cheetah’s eye. In this poem I use “she” instead of the autobiographical “I” for these reasons: in truth, I do not dream about sprinting; I used to walk around playgrounds when my daughter was younger, but I don’t anymore.