[New-Poetry] The only football poem I know

[JforJames at aol.com]

I've posted this poem before on Super Bowl Sunday. The Boss is playing at  
halftime, and he's a poet. 
Kurt Warner won a Super Bowl for the St. Louis Rams. Know QBing for  the 
Arizona Cardinals. The St. Louis Cardinals were my team growing up. Some  kind of 
sentimental triangulation going on. James Wright remains a foundational  poet 
for me since I first really understood what contemporary poetry was or  could 
be when I read his _The Branch Will Not Break_...
 
Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
 
In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long  beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at  Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of  heroes.
 
All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like  starved pullets,
Dying for love.
 
Therefore, 
Their sons grows suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of  October,
And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.  
 
--James Wright

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