The core spins faster than the surface

By: Jamey Temple
August 2, 2025

I don’t tell him how much I worry—
I try not to tell myself.

When he walks through the back door,
cleats clicking on hard tile, I see all tension

gone from his face beaded with sweat.
I’ll never tire of his grateful exhale

as he zips down his bib, the heart monitor
taped to his chest. He sticks out a limp tongue

like a dog needing water, slips off cleats
one at a time. He tells me how many miles

he’s cycled, how fast he peaked,
as if I don’t already know through my tracking.

He tells me of the old timer who hollered
“Hey Buddy,” tells me of the dog that chased him

but gave up. He says, I wish you’d seen
the beauty up on that mountain—the peace and quiet.

As he snaps off his helmet’s buckle,
can see how he’s shed more than his gear:

how the two and half hours of open road
fed him a spoonful of mountaintop, his gears

shifted to make his load light enough to carry.
I am grateful he walks through the door,

grateful people share the road and wave hello,             grateful
for brakes and rural roads, for endorphins and his ease,

grateful I can witness his glow, even though there is fear
beneath that layer of gratitude,                 a layer I try to ignore.

Hours after when he has fallen asleep,
I will touch his side to feel breath fill the lung.

I will fall asleep knowing he will be gone
when I wake, the red flashers alerting others

he is there—I drift away to the image of him
walking through that back door, an image

I turn like an affirmation to wreck the one
of a stranger knocking at the front, the blue flashers

blinding me as I open the door.     I try
to quiet my mind each day when he goes again, trying

to trust the world to give him back to me.

***

Jamey Temple (she/her) is a writer and professor who teaches English at University of the Cumberlands in Eastern Kentucky. Her poetry and prose have been included in several publications such as Fourth Genre, River Teeth, Rattle, Appalachian Review, and Bending Genres. She has been named finalist for Newfound Journal’s Prose Prize, Fourth Genre’s Multimedia Essay Prize, and Wavelength’s Chapbook Contest. She is the recipient of an Artist Enrichment grant from Kentucky Foundation for Women and the Excellence in Teaching award from University of the Cumberlands. You can read more of her published work through her website: jameytemple.com.

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The SportScribe is a sports-themed literary magazine established in 2025, devoted primarily to poetry and short fiction, but we also publish creative non-fiction, essays, interviews and book reviews. While we’re still very new, our goal is to publish works twice or thrice per week on our home page, with quarterly magazines and occasional special-themed magazines.