My heart belongs to you Mickey Mantle,
flask in your locker, knees of knotted pine,
launching rockets from either side,
sweating yourself sober in center field,
eyes still crossed from last night’s bender.

And you, Wilt Chamberlain, Armageddon
descending to the net; rejecting the dreams
of tiny white men, crashing backboards
with your muscle and headboards with your sex
so all could love and despise the sheer size of you.

And you, Muhammad Ali, hands too fast
for physics, face too pretty for cuts and scars,
shuffling your way to the top of the world for
a round with God, then falling, falling, falling…
a beautiful ruin but still on your feet.