Friday, 8 January 2021

8. Home

 I could count on home

when summer turned to winter

and football turned to shinny.

 

I could count on home

where the goalposts were snowballs

where our skates were felt-lined boots

where our puck was a tennis ball.

 

For when we scored

on a dark-lit night

on an ice-packed road

there were no rules

there were no genders.

We were all in the NHL.

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