Alex Smith is a quarterback
more importantly a husband, son, and father
who is cut no sort of slack
in a sport of slaughter.

West coast offense
almost always softens
someone in the pocket
used to quick tosses.

A deserved demotion to backup
made his life increasingly harder
all of the mistakes and bad luck
called for a new start for the starter.

Washington by way of San Francisco
he wasn't high up as far as the list goes
Alex Smith got his wish though
and was back in the fishbowl.

Alex Smith was used in
a game against Houston
and was rolled into a compound fracture
from a double defensive back compactor.

His trip to the hospital
wasn't quite optimal
and it kept getting worse
opening the door to a hearse.

The doctors detected
the wound was infected
Alex had become septic
with bacteria interjected.

Blood pressure dropping
and a fever rising
you know he wasn't flopping
by the way he was writhing.

The leg was turning black
and developing huge blisters
the knowledge they lacked
to heal the maimed mister.

His wife was worried
so were the physicians
to surgery they hurried
on a life saving mission.

The doctors discovered the issue
was necrotizing fasciitis
infecting skin and muscle tissue
like a black King Midas.

Daily debridement
helped with askew alignment
but the bone still looked like a trident
and the infection was the only assignment.

Should they take the leg while they can cut below the knee?
Is wanting to live your life a form of greed?
Does a steed consider its ambulatory needs?
Alex just follows the doctor's lead.

Eight debridements leave the tibia completely exposed
but the necrotizing fasciitis is gone
yet once one's legs explode
how can they move on?

Replacement skin comes from the quad
despite the risk of failure
the doctors took over for God
as epidermic tailors.

Intense physical therapy
is better than sitting scarily
or holding onto life barely
so Alex proceeded merrily.

Eventually healing
getting back to wheeling
this game didn't end in kneeling
when there was extra time to be stealing.

He was told he wouldn't play anymore
he was told he'd lose his leg
now the doctors have nothing to say anymore
and he's only looking ahead.

Playing with no team name
it was definitely no dream game
two teams that were three and seven
but for one quarterback this was heaven.

Two years after getting injured
Alex beats a divisional opponent
something no one would've inferred
back in that pivotal moment.

Fall becomes Winter.
Time changes. Time rearranges.
Each season provides its own challenge.

A shaving becomes a beard.
The snow falls. The snow piles.
Snowballs gain momentum and grow.

A scratch becomes an ache.
I can't breathe. I can't swallow.
I won't last long but this will last forever.

The cold becomes pneumonia.
I have coughing fits. I have blockage.
Phlegm builds an island to be marooned upon.

Habitation becomes hibernation.
The animals escape. The animals sleep.
They wait for the light to shine on them once more.

Mitigation becomes migration.
The birds fly away. The birds fly South.
As they flee their wings push cold air down toward us.

Winter becomes Spring.
I have become someone else.
A man who has felt another Winter.

Wanting to eat
we **** every animal that allows us to approach
until we’ve lost countless opportunities for domestication
and only the creatures that fear us or fight us are left.

The Moriori were a pacifist tribe living in the Chatham Islands
they ate well on abundant sea life until that secret got out
and they came into contact with the violent Māori from Wellington
this initial contact was a 12 year old girl’s flesh hung on posts
yet the Moriori council determined a peaceful approach to the Māori
who proceeded to enslave, ******, and eat the Moriori at will
the last Moriori descendant died in 1933, about 100 years later
Māori descendants make up about 16% of New Zealand’s population.

Wanting to eat
we **** every animal that allows us to approach
until we’ve lost countless opportunities for domestication
and only the creatures that fear us or fight us are left.

Should a poet consider
what their work looks like in portrait mode
and adjust their lineation accordingly?
Or should the responsibility be on the reader to use landscape mode?

I thought your love for me was a form of animal husbandry
but after two humps
you became the camel that broke the straw’s back.

Down at the business factory profits were low
or at least lower than the shareholders wanted
so Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man masterminded a brilliant plan:
“We have three people performing a task
two people could accomplish while losing their minds
attrition rates shouldn’t be a concern
because we’ll just streamline the jobs
so there’ll always be desperate workers
who can easily replace the disillusioned ones.”.

The other businessers were impressed
the emperor of business had heard enough:
“****** you’re ‘Work People to Death‘ theory might just work.
I’m naming you chief execution officer of the company.”.
Profits went up and were disseminated amongst the higher-ups
so that everyone that mattered was happy
all thanks to Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man.

The sun saturates—maturates my family's backyard
like clomiphene for chlorophyll.
Swords emerge from my sward, harboring mosquitoes,
the edges need to be filed down.
Father would edge the lawn, trimming its sides
to make a perfect geometric shape.
The wind would push the grass down,
like God patting the top of the field's head.
I would cut that grass—each blade sent through my blades
dispersing into a green mist.
Clippings are thrown into bat cave black garbage bags
tied tight to avoid leakage.
But when I go inside, I notice that green powder
has collected on my shoes.