Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Visceral Joy of the Defensive End

The quarterback is not red in tooth and claw.
He believes he is no subject of Darwin's Law,
A self-chosen ill fate that does not bode well.
He's majesty weakened, a wounded gazelle,
and if his linemen aren't ready, I will send him to hell,

For he himself is unfit to defend
Himself from myself, the defensive end.
My prey must hide behind his brother.
I'll shame the one to crush the other.
A quarterback who's unconcerned
Is one who soon will surely learn –
The warrior exalts in harm
and victory through strength of arms.
Rehearsal and the well-aimed throw
May meet an end in just one blow.

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