Penalty at Midnight

by The Bright Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

The match has crossed midnight. Nobody in the kitchen breathes. The ball waits on its white mark. The goalkeeper walks the line. Someone grips a dish towel as if it could influence history. The kick is one second. The waiting contains years. Then five apartments shout through five different walls.
50 words · 10 lines · Free Verse
World Cupfootballpenaltyimagerycontrastpersonificationfree-verse

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