superbowl sunday

we pause in reverence to a violent god

the just will triumph, the weak

will be punished.

the order of it all is appealing,

appalling

the wetness in the mouth after the hard

contact,

it speaks to an animal species that is

not quite done with

the hunt.

we are sick, we don’t care, we just need

a break

from all this; it is sick, and it is pure,

the violent god’s mouth lifts at the

corners. it is not a smile but a

prelude to a vast opening, a maw

to swallow the race and cleanse the

planet.

©2011 jack fisher