Day 565

The members of the team
have all been killed.  Their coach
has been killed, 
and the building 
they practiced in, shiny
floor of their gym, destroyed.
The field they played on
is nothing but stones,
charred grasses, dust.
Here’s where a goalpost
was; here was the other.
Here the goalie 
made his startling plays.
Here was the place
far from the goal
where the team’s star player
kicked hard and direct
and scored the game’s
last goal.  How
could he have known
it would be the last goal
he’d score forever?  Last
game they’d play, last time
the team would walk 
off the field
together, arms
around each other’s
shoulders, sun
setting in the distance,
turning the field
golden. Strong athletic
young bodies golden.