on television are beefy men
staring each other down
the camera zooms on one he

blows his snot onto the green
grass a quiet meteor my friends
and I see that half-drunk at

the tavern then proceed to
agree we are too anxious
to blow our nose with one

thousand people watching
I guess it’s just testosterone,
man, the comparisons of

muscles and tendons without
the tenderness of inward
reflection, a pool rippling

out from the inside then
pouring out over the field

(originally published in Impspired, Spring 2020)

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