Brian King

Rookie [R.E. Ecks]

The Little Thunder

Hands are slippery, rubbery, cold
Beyond anything WD-40 could do.
Eyes are determined, burning, gold.
Posture is rigid, steel, no time for snafu.

The ball is heavy stone, unable to be moved.
Legs are gelatin, collapsing, surely falling
Floor feels broken, unsafe, grooved.
Crowd is loud, powerful, calling.

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