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The Shirt

Rating: 4.7

Afterwards, I found him alone at the bar
and asked him what went wrong. It's the shirt,
he said. When I pull it on it hangs on my back

like a shroud, or a poisoned jerkin from Grimm

seeping its curse onto my skin, the worst tattoo.

I shower and shave before I shrug on the shirt,

smell like a dream; but the shirt sours my scent
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Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sports
Edward Kofi Louis 24 June 2015

Alone at the bar. Nice work.

14 5 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 27 April 2016

I found him alone! Thanks for sharing.

15 3 Reply
Bill Wright 22 April 2016

I don't think I have ever read a football poem before.

14 3 Reply

A wonderful poem made out of a simple concept of a shirt. Beautiful poem.

1 0 Reply
Peter 19 November 2017

her poems are horrible

3 15 Reply
Susan Williams 27 April 2016

I am intrigued with this. I think I shall have to reread it several times to get exactly what is going on. But I think he feels unworthy to wear his team's shirt. I like the set-up, the story element, and the way it ends. I do want to read more by her.

19 2 Reply
Jasbir Chatterjee 27 April 2016

very nice poem, depicts a sports person's sorrows quite well, when things are not okay...

14 2 Reply
Tom Billsborough 27 April 2016

That poor boy. We shouldn't mock the afflicted. Only 100 grand a week. No wonder he's miserable. Nice work

15 3 Reply