by J. Bradley
The more you win, the more
your nation blames the concussions
for torn dresses, bruises.
Torn dresses, bruises,
your nation tears them into confetti.
You drink it all in.
You drink it all in,
your knee and face on the turf.
Does it look just like them?
Does it look just like them?
How did you wash away
the lipstick divots?
Your nation blames the concussions.
Your nation tears them into confetti.
Your face on the turf, how did you
wash everything away?
J. Bradley is the author of Dodging Traffic (Ampersand Books, 2009) and of The Serial Rapist Sitting Behind You is a Robot (Safety Third Enterprises, 2010). He is the Interviews Editor of PANK Magazine.
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