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“The Tie”

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This poem is autobiographically actual. The selected details are as accurate as I could record them. The two fathers in the poem gave me their consent to use their names and profiles. In this piece, I explore several ties, twins, dualities, opposites, pivots, turning points.

,

THE TIE (June 22, 2010)

Postponed because of rain
then rescheduled for
what turns out to be
a rare dry spell
between two summer showers —
your last soccer game ever
for the Albany city team
being played this evening
on rural fields
near Farm to Market Road.
a new pale blister on the rise.
Two fathers, both named Lee,
are faithful fans of every
fall-to-spring season:
Rebecca’s dad walks the sidelines
raising and dropping the flag
for wayward balls;
Maggie’s dad watches
with his other daughter
from a folding chair on the grass.
And near the players’ bench
the large kind coach
bellows his tough love:
Let’s make something happen, girls!
.
I stand during both halves of the game
alone on a sloping bank
watching you give your utmost
as Number 6 in midfield.
Stamina: you have always put forth
your best. Ten years of running
fast and nimble-footed
and of keen passes, unselfish
assists. Plus several goals
shot straight from the laces
of your indoor or outdoor cleats.
.
Behind me on other fields
new younger players
kick and dribble, their parents
or grandparents cheering.
Once I was like them
in rookie training. But now
I am a veteran
of many standoffs, suspended
yet one more time tonight
between two strategies
for a mother’s end game:
crying or clapping.
.
After a late-game rally,
your team ties it up at 3 to 3.
.
.
.
by Therese L. Broderick
.
.
.
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About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

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