Pennants

We waved our courage
to set a pace, proud and full,
It hit the sunlight
with all our rage,
our passions dripping into our socks.

Oh victory comes,
what sweet taste
when you can leap to the sky.

But the first wound,
that second of blunt bruises
made our spines clay
with our minds pudding
utterly unstable.

A heart’s flag flows
so brilliant without any wind,
then comes the gust
with fray’s and fierceness
then left off balance
from the gulf
between enthusiasm
and reality.