I believe that girls can be avid hockey fans — some of my very best girlfriends follow hockey with an enthusiasm that impresses me.  I’m simply not one of those girls.  Hockey can still inspire it seems, even if in a roundabout way.

I dedicate this poem on day three of the National Poetry Writing Month, to my Dad, my brothers, my Uncle and my Edmonton cousins who still hold the hockey stick high – even when their teams are losing.  You’ve inspired a poem (this may never happen again).  The poem’s structure is inspired by a poem by Antonio Machado titled Memory from Childhood which you can read here if you’re interested – or you can turn on a hockey game.

Saturday Night

Uncharacteristically alone,
flipping through three TV channels,
the triumphant ‘Dada – d’da – da – DA!’
of Hockey Night in Canada leaks out.

Frantic, I snap past, preferring the static
of empty channels as I catch my breath and
look casually behind me — have my brothers
or my Dad heard the anthem? No, still alone…

Volume reduced, I flip slowly on, finding
Bugs Bunny, my Saturday Night favorite.
I stretch for a hassock and sit squarely
blocking the screen, close enough to hear.

Then I sense a presence behind me, even before
he yells and lowers himself to the couch,
‘Boston is playing tonight!’ – and to me:
‘Sweetie, can you change that for me?’

Uncharacteristically alone,
flipping between the three TV channels
the triumphant ‘Dada – d’da – da – DA!’
of Hockey Night in Canada leaks out…

© 2016 – Laurel Archer