In the would-be version, a hero, an enduring symbol, or a brazen-patriotism is needed. Our words would fertilize the land and our breath would act as a blood-bank for the future of lore. If there is no Good vs.Evil, then there’d be no actual confirmation for greatness. We’d have, but our own small hearts to listen to.
There is a fear of contradicting.
As the story goes, the dynamo
provides what he sees fit. The percreta feeds
one life to the next. I want to be that.
I want you, to be nourished.
I want a shifting of place in your chest.
The real danger is sport.
The most romanticized sport: Love.
And I want something to rally about
when coming to shove. The believing is pure-like: you do,
you don’t, you do,
you don’t, you do, you don’t, you
have the final whistle,
the final call, the final sip.
Pull yourself together. This is more powerful than myth.
© Umansky 2012
blog of poet, leah umansky 