Listen, I am so fast. I am fast. Listen, the team’s mouth moves from across the field: hustle. Blood- shot, their mouth is saying it is out of bounds. I have to pay attention. Center half-back and their mouths are letting out long lines. Blood- shot, the field blurs, the field it rushes to their mouths. If I look & won’t have missed it, I will have paid attention. Many times are lost in time beneath the dark red-clay. So they told & the joke goes: he threw a white stone in a red sea. The oarsman had a white stone & he threw it in the sea. When it comes back to his hand what color will it be? Center half-back, their mouth moves. It is all gums. They know what they are saying. This time out-of-bounds blood- shot and I didn’t pay attention. Coach has his playbook, it is red-streaked. His mouth is where the cardinals are leashed. It is a stone’s throw away, and believe me, really: red is the pigment of cardinals unleashing. Center half-back says hustle back. I will go back. I will hustle back. They know what they are saying. I am fast. I am so fast. My legs, they blend and kneed. Coach’s playbook is pouring something. Coach’s playbook is in his hands. He washes his hands off, he gets it off. Blood- shot, I am so fast, on a breakaway. Out-of-bound, I am so fast, the pigment it’s all over.
LETTER HOME ON THE THIRD DAY by Lauren Haldeman https://laurenhaldeman.com/
