Saturday, September 6, 2008

The Irishman

It was a sickly crack
not hard
but solid
like a hard boiled egg
dropped
on the floor

sweat, heat, grass

jump
to win
duck and push
body to body
strive, drive
around...

the sound.
like a dropped egg
stops.

there will be blood
even before he knows it
then he knows it

and realization comes
with familiar vocality
-arrggghhhhhhhhhhh-
of wounds of the past

blood spills down
flesh broken
game broken
but not before
the satisfaction of hard earned exhaustion

the irishman laughs, again.

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