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  • Self-portrait before Penalty Kick
  • James Ciano (bio)

You are on the line the ref’s whistle opens a cloud opens your stomach itsshrill is something you swallow a silence opens like a door and on theother side are one thousand closed mouths in aluminum bleachers inblankets and gloves unlike yours which you haven’t washed in monthscoated in spit sticked grip the line is white freshly painted the paint’srubbed off on the sides of your cleats like dusted chalk you touch eachpost and the cross bar ceremoniously you stare at the ball and the hipsbehind lined up to kick the second person’s never felt more appropriateon the board the clock’s stopped digits redder than an exit no one movesyou don’t move you’re not even here unfolding the clouds overhead likeclean sheets and the words from the radio this morning stuck inside yourmouth what were they telling you by the bleachers and is she here shehas hair the color of cinnamon maybe she’s here and still but not like youyour stillness is calm your stillness has a river of piranhas in its stomacheyes combustible and on you and you’re quiet and your next move no oneknows your eyes move away from you your eyes don’t move this line is agoal this line is not time you’ve stopped you’ve not stopped time but ithas stopped this ball on the spot your body on the line focus isn’t focusit’s a magnifying glass and louder than a whistle you’re stone you’re wallyou’re blown open this body these fingers dive you’re right the field ishard below you didn’t know the sky was above was hard and empty. [End Page 176]

James Ciano

James Ciano is a Goldwater Fellow and mfa candidate at New York University. His work has been awarded an Academy of American Poets Prize, the John Curtis Underwood Memorial Prize and is forthcoming from jubilat. In a prior life he was an All-State and All-Regional Goalkeeper. He is a native of Syosset, New York.

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