The Pass
Plato put it well, like so—
beyond the particular’s the permanent.
That is, beyond the broken arc of one dead jay
I throw to the woods (it hits a pine
and drops),
beyond such a broken arc
and the almost parabolic piss Davy Miller took
at recess and hit the drinking fountain
and got sent to Miss Ward,
beyond such arcs
is the one they all aim to be.
I think I saw it in November of ‘53.
It was the Blue against the Brighton 2’s,
fourth quarter, tight,
when Number 3, George Nichols of the Blue
faded back in the mud, back
to the end of his own end zone
and got one off as he went down. It spirals
still, to the 50
and into the arms of the wide end
who fakes and cuts and pulls it in, a peach.
He hardly has to look for the ball.
Behind him Nichols is down, his number’s mud,
but what he threw
was just what Plato knew he would.
Rennie McQuilkin