M. Hank

They called him a legend, but legends don't bleed—and I watched Diogo Jota bleed for his game. It wasn't just the goals, trophies or the crowd—It was what he gave when no one was watching.

To me,

The words hope

And light

Are interchangeable;

To me,

Perhaps it is hope

That will let us see clearly

your mother/ hacked together skeleton wings into two-part pieces/ bleeding stars, you thought/ neurons fizzing out/ you had all the time in the the universe/ your eyes dripped down/ the back of your spacesuit/ a so-called prodigy ghost/ acid smoke

Long, exhausted bars of light in my window
Chase away the late night that came before them,
And prime me for the next one.

When you are old and too tired to sleep,

Steeping like your lemon tea

In ancient memories and dreams,

I wonder if you’ll think of me.

When your forehead’s deeply lined

With remnants of the tears you cried