“Kick
with your laces!”
I always thought
that was funny.
Those pieces
of woven thread
have no power
over that ball.
I gave them
credit though:
they took on
the mud
the rain
smelly feet
hard hits to the face.
Sometimes when they felt
weak
scared
cold
They unknotted themselves
hoping I would stumble
let them rest.
But I,
I was their coach—
yanking them
out,
replacing them
Or
pulling them hard,
putting them back
together.
©Julie Bolitho.“Laces,” Poem. Aethlon: A Journal of Sports Literature. East Tennessee University Press: Vol. 22, No. 2 (Spring 2005), p. 136.
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