Sport 36: Winter 2008
To the Tadpoles
To the Tadpoles
Paddies are crowded
with fastened lips, soon
you will hatch the plots.
Keep your own counsel
from the terraces;
talk up a downpour.
Repeat after me
We are the chorus!
We are the applause!
Hold on, what was that?
(To pause is knowing
when to make a splash.)
The mass is more than
a clearing of throats
surrounded by pines.
When distance is gapped
seek your selves in panes.
Give nothing away.