A poem a day for a year? Preposterous perhaps, but no longer will I be bothered by punctuation
As I grow older I grow more irresponsible,
At twenty-four I feel like thirteen,
I want to hit things,
I want to get hit.
So I join a rugby team
I get the ball,
and before I know why I run
forward-
stinging stars and swelling tissue surround me
Blood pounding everywhere and nowhere at once
I hold the ball until I hit the ground,
then I must let go or I am part of the ball
a ball that can be stomped, kicked and crushed
and based on how the speed of contact makes me feel,
so alive in pain-
I wonder if I will let go at all.
everyone notices a black eye.
I want to hit things,
but sometimes
I want to get hit more.
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