by Anannya Uberoi
St. Michael’s pitch is torched with
blots of white and gold, and red and blue
for the boys, kicking far and wide—
the game’s on, and it’s on good,
for there is a curly-haired lad blaring
“Come on, Ref! Let ’em play,” with
a squinting eye and a chili-chewed
breath. Beside me mother is wearing
a sunglass-smoked sundress with
a long-ended print neckerchief
that keeps blowing into my eyes
like a wide screen netted filter
on the bright green of the field.
Little Kurt is playing well—
the more the lads behind us cuss,
the more pump we gather, and cheer
for Fairfield High. In ten minutes or so,
mother’s scarf has flown into the field,
which she has taken as a divine interference
of some sort, and is back to her high school
self from south of Bilbao. Like a tiger,
she has leaped onto the football field,
the Ref’s astounded, and the last goal
of the summer is kicked straight into
the pristine white hemp.
Boos and whistles follow.
Anannya Uberoi is a full-time software engineer and part-time tea connoisseur based in Madrid. She is poetry editor at The Bookends Review, the winner of the 6th Singapore Poetry Contest and a Best of Net nominee. Her work has appeared in The Birmingham Arts Journal, The Bangalore Review, The Loch Raven Review, and Tipton Poetry Journal. www.anannyauberoi.com
2 responses to “Mother’s Day on the Field”
The feeling of sport definitely captured in words.
Thank you, Ann.