The Kicker
by Beth Paulson
At kickoff when both teams lined up,
you'd stand behind the 40-yard line,
loose-armed, shifting on both feet,
waiting for the referee's signal
as the band drummed and rumbled, fans yelled,
whistled and rang cowbells.
Then you'd run up with short steps and kick the football off the tee
in such a long, high trajectory, all eyes
would follow it into the stadium lights' glow
while the other players in their black and silver pants
waited for the ball to fall into the end zone.
At field goals and PATs, you always made it look so easy--
the ball just shot through the uprights
after it touched your cleat--
as if your legs and feet were made of something
beyond mere bone and muscle.
I always liked best to see you punt,
though you considered that a dubious honor.
You'd take your stance behind the crouched long snapper,
hoping he'd get the ball to your cupped hands.
Then you'd quick shift your grip till it felt right
and, with one movement, step out on your right leg, arms out
in front holding the ball, and kick it hard with your left leg,
straight from hip to toe as any dancer.
Then someone in the crowd who'd craned his neck to watch,
who knew games are never won in life easily,
would shout loud so you could hear,
Great punt!
Beth Paulson taught college writing for over twenty years at California State University Los Angeles and now lives near Ouray, Colorado where she teaches writing workshops and writes a popular column for the Ouray Plaindealer. Her poems have been published in many literary magazines and her work is included in anthologies published by Houghton Mifflin Press and University of Texas Press. She has two published collections of poems, The Truth About Thunder (2001) and The Company of Trees (2004) as well as a CD of nature poetry, By Stone By Water. Beth's poem, "Hollyhocks," was nominated for the 2007 Pushcart Prize. Visit her at http://wordcatcher.org.
Beth Paulson
PO Box 1168 , Ouray, CO 81427
970-325-0931
