Skip to content

123

August 8, 2011

22

The way the grass keeps coming closer and getting farther away and the smell of the mud and the pumping of the blood through his bent wrists. And the sun that keeps on his back and the shadow of the coach standing and counting and the slippery grass under his palms and the shuddering of his triceps as the coach counts.

34

The older brothers and the state championships and the signed casts and the ball too big in his hands and the kneeling in the mud and grass and the watching of the bees.

45

The coach’s shadow as he counts and he counts so that he keeps going so that his nose touches the grass that smells too sweet and he needs something smelling of water or he will lose it.

55

56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63 ,64, 65, 66,

67

The eating of the halftime oranges and the eating of the solemn words which ratchet his perspective into place and fasten it with lug nuts.

74

This is the game. This is the motive. This is the triumph. This is the sweat. This is the fierce. This is the smooth. This is the rough. This is the stern. This is the fun. You’ll be washed up by the time you’re twenty. This is the frank. This is the fear. This is the earning. This is the mark. This is the word. This is the eye. This is the step. This is the further. This is

83

I’m thirsty

91

The whey protein and the weight sets and the climbing of the stairs that sink beneath one’s feet and the thudding down the tracks that move beneath one’s feet and the warm-up suit and the pushups between the infomercials.

100

This is the girl. This is the look. This is the game. This is the phone call. This is the memory. This is the picture memorize it. This is the repeat after me This is the

109

I’ll die now I think

116

The way the grass keeps coming closer and moving farther away and the smell of blood and the drying of the mud on his wrists. The son that jumped up on his father’s back and the way the shadow counted the shudders of his triceps.

120

The pleading and the performing and the dangling of the saliva and the involuntary rolling of the eyes and the whisper and the shudder and the staring into the mud.

122

The widening of the eyes and the shudder and the Please, can’t you put your arm around us.

123

123?

123

And the divorce of the mind from the body and the ripping of the past from the present and the gaping of the eyes into the mud and shudder and the eternal stillness and the sun gone behind the dank wetness of clouds.

…..

123 and he’s all tired out.

© Trent R. Leinenbach, Ashen Apples, 2011

Advertisements
No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: