Daily Poems: Sunday 3 March
The crumple and toss of cotton or polyester is a rite of passage,
shrine to a line of greats who scuffed their first efforts wide:
Keegan, Gazza, Adams, Scholes, Styles, the Charlton boys,
all the ex-pro pundits; Lineker , Shearer and Hansen.
Hand-me-downs heaped like ant-hills, slope at odd angles,
only four tatty landmarks lie; the pitch could be a hexagon.
You are free to stray the turf to the horizon, if you please,
save for the ten small paces between mud-matted material,
now consecrated ground, sludge, a goal-mouth mire.
Like banners trampled into a battlefield, they are our colours,
markers, laid limp to align the collective imagined goals
to then be placed triumphant in the drum of the washer.
Four jumpers can turn any field in England into Wembley.
Miguel Dawson-AmbiadoMore news