Friday 30 November 2012

#20 - The Rush Goalie's Cheese Nightmare

In the post-dolcelatte, pre-delta wave lull,
he sees footballs big as hayricks
approach over a pitch of endless blue.

They whisper like voles under sackcloth.
He watches the centre-forward topple,
go under, an entire inverted Christmas tree
Katamari Damacy'd
into its bulging latitudes.

He sees seas and continents turn;
he leaves his mark, the whiff of sod
acrid in his flaring nostrils.
He holds his gloves up; they are withered
as budget burgers on a griddle.

The stanchions fall into shadow.
He backs away, the ball before him,
            the net.

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