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The Game MAG
November 23, 2008
Lazy bounds of stadium light
flicker on our boys
but we are tearing
up the night
cutting open nebulas
ravaging the moon
inky black guts slide
i hear them scrambling over barbed wires
attempted lust in the trees
fumbling with skeleton hips
adolescent lips digging into sharpened necks
leaving their burrow to inhale sweeter highs
someone’s china-glass tears are heard
below the idle roar
we are only allowed to scream
when rubber balls are involved
pounding car ride far away
a cotton moon glares at the windshield
these earthly nights
never felt so real.
© Sophie M., Wolfforth, TX
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