We like to think it’s a secret, but we’re fans
leaving the playoff game mid-fourth quarter
to beat midnight traffic, to make it through the next day.
Down two touchdowns. The opposing team
a short pass away from another score.
We leave trying not to look around, bloated
from too many nachos, shivering from too few blankets.
One hand crumples the souvenir program and trash.
The other we pocket with cold keys and regret.
Head bowed in one final, faithless prayer.
It’s hard to be honest when shame
is clouding our outing, our shoulders hunch
as we trudge down stadium stairs. We sag
like tackling dummies in the last spray of end zone light.
–
Mark D. Bennion has taught writing and literature courses at Brigham Young University-Idaho since 2000. His most recent collection of poetry is Beneath the Falls: poems (Resource Publications, 2021). He and his wife, Kristine, are trying to figure out how to parent one adult child, two teenagers, and two tweens. They welcome your advice.