By Fabrice Poussin

 

 

Neon, like a felt pen, round and fast it flies

just to be swatted like a vile bug unwanted.

 

Broken, unable to perfect its spherical soul

the laces, like stars, keep it one, against the odds.

 

This one almost died of the angry kick of sharp cleats

spotted in black, and in white, it might rebel.

 

Smacked around over a high net, one, two, three

and caught in between two giants it collapses at last.

 

Iron and plastic are no fair match on the green acres

under the puzzled eye of nature’s faithful tenants.

 

Back inside, bounced to no end, by hands of colossi

just to wind up caught up like the catch of the day.

 

Maple, metal, aluminum compete too for the privilege

of smacking the flying object around bases in red clay.

 

Superheroes always relegated to oblivion in a flash

the glory of victory is never theirs, victims silenced.

 

For a name loosely signed on the uneasy surface

their abuser becomes the star of an unmatched feud.

 

Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.

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