thinking of Ashley Capps’ Mistaking the Sea for Green Fields
I’m watching the first of the games, and all I can think of
is how true that could be, here—their bodies suspended
over all that green. The white uniforms and the legs bent
like V’s, the swastika bodies, always turning and returning
across a green field and faceless, towering seats. Perhaps
it’s all pointless—the running of a ball back and forth, aiming
in-between two steel poles—but what seems even more so
is their inability to hide. Never do we see their arrival
on that field, or their exit. We only see that constant flux
from offense to defense, that constant-green terrain. They keep
moving, breathing, eating the air, until that final turn, which
sometimes feels further and further away, sometimes suspended,
too, against that green that is a little too green for grass.