Greetings! Another Project 27 poem for you here. Not sure what I’m at by now 😉 Probably more than 27. Today’s poem is named Goalposts.
Here I stand
I can go no further.
Well, literally not, there’s a swamp of mud
between me and the net.
Sweat pouring down my neck
waiting for the ball to roll closer
through the mob of children kicking, shoving,
falling onto the damp grass.
I squint, eyes narrow.
Arms spread, knees shaking, praying
Please don’t shoot
the sweet, terrifying thwack
of a hard kick.