Game Day Poem by Torry Young
Game Day
Grainy leather
Alien in my palms
The lucky birds
Get a front row seat
To the pig-skinned, farce
game of the year
Bursting with attempted catches
Bloody lips,
And implausible tackling
My squeals of contentment
Reverberating throughout
The neighborhood
Fatigued,
We retreat to the
Sofa for a night of
Popcorn and Wii
The luminosity of day
Altering into
shadows of dusk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 5:12:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
