Jeff Feagles: an encomium

Feagles


When a young man is born a hurricane,
he makes the best of a bad situation. Possession
changes. Learn to do one thing very well
and keep your loyalties light. You will never want

for a home. You shall be the last resort

of a patriot, the great birds, a final stand
with giants. Shrug and kindle your hands
against the elements, the stumbling block,

the groaning crowds, the rush. No safety.
This is why men decline immortality
and a steady paycheck. At a snap,
you could make one man envy you:

with my own eyes I saw it, the receiver
pinned in the coffin corner, the linebacker's
taunting momentum asked, What do you want,
boy? and with a hand to god begging fairness,

he replied, I want to die.