Kickoff. A high arc spiral from father to son Across fallen fluttering leaves. Wishes. Encouragements. Settlements. You zip your jacket against the cold. Second quarter. Bulldogs dig into New Haven mud; A plastic thock of pad-to-pad. Handsome Dan charms the cheerleaders. The underclassmen sell hot chocolate. Halftime. Aunts bake turkeys while grandfathers gloat Brothers pout and sisters strut The Coach bellows “Dedication!” Cranberry prayers in breathy fog. Third quarter. A pimpled pigskin bloated, Too tight for your grip to toss And violate November’s taught linen. Bands in the stands press the party on. Fourth Quarter. Hands are held, cheers sent up. Flags waved, pennants folded. Hearts are wrapped in flannel. Our silly love is suspended in an icy milk sky. In summer; we worshipped near naked bodies. Gods that sprint over the clay. Come autumn, we’ve grown burly, Tossing our Giants into the fray. We wish for shoulders to lean into the wind. We spe
A Collection of Poetry