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Borders

Jon Tait

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Dark as the mug shot
of a mafia hit-man,
body poised like a starling
on taut telephone wires
in black & gold stripes
sharp as a wasp’s jacket,
he shapes to volley the blurred ball
flashing over shining turf
& into the net with a sizzle
of water on hot ashes,
rain glinting in the floodlight’s gleam.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 One arm raised in modest celebration,
descended from a Reiver family,
wide curved walls round
a speedway track
the small sloping roof of
the ducket stand,
flames no longer lighting up
the night skies in glorious orange.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Sturdy solid arched bridge
spanned over fast moving water
filled with thick salmon,
the grim outlines of hills
marking badlands of castles
& pikes & leather jerkins.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Neither the lion rampant
nor the three lions
but Northumberland,
a bear
& a tree.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/borders/