The Cheering Has Stopped by john keast

The old man’s leg kicks

The winger whips wide

He is on the frosted field,

taut frame and ten quid in the bank

Big runs, cold air in his lungs

Betrothed on the sideline

He asked for her hand

Planted spuds for diamonds.

Fifty knicker if you dig ‘em yourself

His arm swings

The foe is in memory;

the fist sinks in flesh

Go on – go on –

The screen flickers –

He is standing alone

The cheering has stopped

Originally posted on http://poetry.org.nz/john-keast/the-cheering-has-stopped/

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