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ODE TO O.J.
by
Holly Blakeslee

ODE TO O.J.

San Francisco
the Projects
in the 1950’s
Your childhood.

Chocolate faces
Melding with so many
Unsung others.

Knowing
with your mother’s milk
that hands of a different
Color
held the reins.

You held
a power of your own
A spark, an edge,
a deep ringing sound
of talent and skill.

Carried to the heights by
a bullet-ball
You rode among the
screams of nameless faces
who paid their adulation.
Triumphant from your touchdown
You found the pot of gold.

You ARE golden
A golden boy
who chose a golden girl.

Really only a child…
when first caught in the tail
of your comet.

She
must have meant
so very much.

Not only for her own Self
but the color of her hands
hands of a rein-holder.

And you
held her reins.

A long way to go
from home
on bullet-legs

to Heaven
and back.

~Holaday Blakeslee

--Submitted by HollyB on 2012-04-01.

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