I. Honduras v. El Salvador


Amelia had the game on and the window open always

open as her breath when the ball punched net

lungs heaved and she wanted her fathers arms

dark hard as coffee beans so much was each

cheer a step towards no border she could name no

need to leave a note she just left the tv on sound

turned down the word she learnt meant depth

her lungs were sunk sweated and pinched eyes

watched the ball punch again always again and breathless

she went to fathers desk where he would write

sometimes hold his head a moment, pray



II. El Salvador v. Honduras


She killed herself. Her coffin was draped

in blue and white. So, we are pelted

by rotten meat on the field, left only

with mud and blood, bones and muscle.

Like the cutting of a pig. Panic reigns. A bubble of graffiti:

Nobody beats Honduras. Only an imbecile worries. A woman cries,

“My child! My child!”

Silence. Everything still.

They were in the depths of darkness. Again,

“Apaga la luz!” ‘Turn off the light!’

I blow out my candle.


First published on World Cup 2010 Poetry Site /Chapbook from Forest Publications.