From Dooley's dreams you fell into the State,
And hunched in your belly; the ball heavy; a rock.
One yard on this earth, loosed from offensive men,
You ran into red and black and the nightmare began.
When stopped you'll see the final seconds tick from the clock.
I'm not normally one for comparing football to war but seeing that many of you enjoyed a "reworked" Dickson I thought you'd enjoy something from the Tennessee poet Randall Jarrell.