Post Match Analysis
If you really want to know,
ask a dying person she said
sotto voce, while
teeming dross bucketed
from an embarrassed sky
outside my kitchen window.
Sweeping diagonally, deliberately
as if to make a point;
cut through all the crap.
While old Hughie pontificated
on the outcome of too many
turn-overs—chances gone begging;
no bottle at the breakdown of
play & let’s not mention the
gutless display in the scrum.
It’s a given that mouths will
explode at the next board meeting.
Perhaps in the end, that’s all
there is to the lamentable night.
Like learning how to mince words
over last night’s lasagna leftovers,
or trying not to mix apples with
oranges down at the old chows,
until you end up trying to live with
what you hoped you could live without.
©️Orion Foote, 2022
Visions of Orion Poetry 