Falcioni

Chewing a wasp
Does not quite grasp
The grim enjoyment of his face.
Calciated, the visage opens
And his stalagmite teeth bark forward orders.
His folded nose, stately
And bespectacled -
Casting truculent shadows.
When that mouth turns upwards
It must creak like ancient mills.
They surely don't make faces like this one anymore.

Stars and Stripes

Their emblem fringed
With gilded scudetti
Bears the weight of history.
This year's addition
Questionable -
Forever asterixed.

Tanka for the Recently Sacked Manager II

Sat rapt in stillness
Like Kitchener lost at sea
An idol for stoics
And in his newfound freedom
He counts trophies in ashtrays.

Deportivo Quito vs Universidad de Chile

A footballing fever dream
Left rapt -
Gasping breath
In that altitudinous arena.
Yellow flashed red
The man he disappeared
Then dazzling snowflakes burst rapture.
Dizzy sick fell the men
Sand in their lungs
Sweat still damp on the forehead.

Stood Before the Firing Squad (Souleymane Camara's Penalty)

As the world roared around him
The pooling eyes betrayed
A doubt that closed off possibility.
For when one man faces another
And the heat of the battle surrounds
Forced to wait
The itch in his fingers perpetuates.

Palpable, the fear
Expressed through shining screens.
A nation watched knowingly
As he stumbled towards his fate.

The Owl is not what he seems.

Flickering on the edges
Of that reality
Only existing in the dull light
Of television
He sat, stage left
Ocassionally panning to centre.

Now his time
In the leading role
Perhaps
The owl is not what he seems.
For a lifetime -
Watching, perhaps
He has gleaned what afflicts
This sorry state.