Hot brown tea on the table blocks the
blue water of the pool scored in lines across
the panning camera
and I’m sucked across the carpet to heroes
the passing heads and cars beyond the bay the few
and I the many as they enter
wheelchairs crutches hopping
pained stilted juddered
stunning powerful beautiful
an awesome place a palace of dreams filled with guttural power
power to forget power to belittle power to become
a million sofas drawn to the bleachers to swell
the coming storm
they bend crouch hang an exhibition of battered bodies that now crush abled they smash recoil
awaiting the gentle parp to go and away and pace and length
a legless turn
I am stunned
water in the eyes makes them red and stream it is involuntary
half an arm chops a frozen trunk with the speed through the noise and the tears
he took bronze whose leg was taken by a shark and the tears will not stop flowing as
flags rise for heroes who are a hundred times my petty poor hopes
they are huge and perfect and
my tea
is cold.