Hockey Haikus (John Poch and Chad Davidson)

June 8, 2009

There’s something about
swatting your goalie’s shin-pads
post warm-ups—Luck thuds.

Conflict—How can I
pledge my allegiance to two
national anthems?

Detroit’s new savior:
Cujo’s mojo in the pipes.
Hasek can’t hack it.

Terror in the crease,
Sacrificing teeth for goals:
Philly’s John LeClair.

Can’t muss it up, Mess-
ier’s hair, and all those hats
doffed to the bald ice.

Dumb intermission
games, while the team four-down gets
a vulgar ear-full.

She says, “bull hockey!”
Euphemisms just aren’t
what they used to be.

Speaking Japanese,
We would know that hokku means
wet rice; also hockey.

I deke you, deke you.
In the crease, I deke you, you
who look sorrowful.

Though I shall deke back.
And the deked shall inherit
all this open ice.

It is not easy
to deke on the ice, unless
you are a deker.

The ref calls icing.
Everyone is dumbfounded.
There’s ice everywhere.

Modano’s so cute
I want to throw roses on
the ice. But I don’t.

I swear! Foiled again.
H-E-double hockey sticks.
Satan’s in the crease.

Ice cold ice. Hot dog.
Hockey game in June, Phoenix
rising from the smog.

*

My sports calendar pivots on early June, the best time of year to be a Redwings fan. So I thought it only fitting, being near the end of yet another Stanley Cup finals (which the Wings, once again, will win), to post a hockey poem. This was published in Smartish Pace a few years ago, and later came out in a book called Hockey Haiku: The Essential Collection. Subsequently, we published a comical (hint: fictional) review of the book on our web site, along with a response by the poets. You can read it here.

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