14 Pounds/Sq. In.

The high-jumper does not have to strive

Against the weight of the sky,

Just himself; those bunched-muscled legs,

The supple back and the driving brain

That fling him upward drag him down.

For the sky lifts him just as much

As it pushes him away; and though it tries

To crush him, he is used to it,

If the sky released him suddenly he'd

Explode from his own pent-up pressure.

He stands a moment, gathering himself,

Waits perhaps for the breeze to die down,

Then sprints and hurls himself above himself,

Falls, stands, then sets the bar a little closer to the sky.