Shoot Out

Written after watching the Champions League final

Imagining, somehow, as viewer
you have some kind of power…

The longest shortest distance 
into a sea of red and blue
and the balletic antics of the keeper 
in the lemon and lime of his shirt 
as he squeezes the bottle in his glove 
for one last pour, anointment of silver. 

You lean into the screen, will
in the arc of your breath 
the destination of the ball.

Cloud fade 
into cloud 
merge 

into the Is 
between
sky & eye