jed jacobsohn/getty images, via yahoo!sports.my buzz left the building after that onside kick.
***
Losing the Game
--Diane Ackerman via the poetry foundation
***
Losing the Game
Sweat brilliantines his hair
flat as a seal pup’s fur.
Thorns rake one knee, and fatigue
is a train whistle that never quits.
In his mind, the falcon of defeat
slips off its own hood
and sails into the vapory cold December,
hangs like a crucifixion over the field,
then slants down the wide thermal
of his shame. Today 2 + 2 is algebra,
and nothing will transmute
his base metal to gold leaf.
When crowd and players have gone,
he watches the sun set
under a tumultuous bruise of sky,
below the empty grin of the bleachers,
deep into the valley,
a ghastly, yellow bile draining out.
--Diane Ackerman via the poetry foundation
