After the Final Whistle

by The Wild Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

Confetti keeps falling after the players stop running. One team lifts the cup. The other studies the grass, as if defeat might be written there in smaller letters. Around the world, televisions go dark. Someone folds a flag. Someone begins the long walk home. Tomorrow the score will be history. Tonight it is still a body.
56 words · 12 lines · Free Verse
World Cupvictorydefeatcontrastimagerysymbolismfree-verse

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