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SOCCER POEM FOR A FULLBACK

Time is mostly empty space. Money
Considers your love of music
And the placement in your house
Of the commode. Empty space
Is mostly the way the knife goes through
The stationary cow. The butterfly
Is told to recognize its tidal wave.
The father is told to cover his nuts
During the penalty kick. When you attack,
You are like a bee; persistent
As a martingale. And yet there is
The one in goal. He is counting on you.
He is counting the kicks, the blades
Left in his razor at home. Anything
To keep sharp for when you spring out.