1 of 30, 2016

Fantasy Trophy (Daunte Culpepper is an Absolute Monster)

Numbers dance on numbers until skin
and bodies make numbers. This is why
men scramble, snap, go low and brainsick.
The year I chose best, they gave me

a gameball made of plastic on a tee,
Lombardi via Warhol, inside filled up
with Fun Sized Snickers bars. I’d get
to the office first, make coffee, replenish

the trophy with sweets. A good year to be
at my desk: the soft nougat of victory,
the satisfying peanuts of reminding people
who hate me to stay hungry.

from a prompt by Irene Unger