I lie down on a football grid and my hair
stretches out across the entire field.
The grass grows up through the strands,
poking at my neck. Here comes Lady Godiva.
Her horse pads along the ropes of my hair,
weaving it into a giant braid with its lucky shoes.
It’s a giant lasso above my head,
I’m spinning it up up up.
I’ve caught the moon.
I pull it down to the ground with a yank,
rolling it down off the sky.
It’s still only as big as it looks far away,
fits in my hand. I offer it to Godiva with a shrug.
She points to the ground.
I throw it down hard.
Touch down.