Here's a poem I wrote about the Memphis Grizzlies during last night's game, when they beat the Oklahoma City Thunder last night to advance to the Western Conference Finals.
I am watching game five, between Oklahoma City and Memphis,
And thinking about poetry.
And imagining Zach Randolph as one of Odysseus’s men,
glowering as he oars a trireme past Skylla and Charybdis.
And Mike Conley is there. The twin 1s on his tunic
like fingers pointing skyward to Apollo,
the god who guards the perimeter. And one sailor speaks Iberian.
He plucks at his beard absentmindedly when the thunder rolls,
thinking not of the vanquished thunder, nor of suns,
nor kings, nor hawks, nor the warriors in Hades' bloated belly.
At the prow of their ship juts the angel of Victory.
With unfaltering gaze she steers the vessel
to one final fiery conquest.