Praying to the Pigskin
​KELSEY FORD

Saturday is the Sabbath
for those who file into the concrete sanctuary,
several thousand strong. They face
the pulpit to receive
the sermon: the promise
of fair competition with a side
of ass kicking. Eyes of the young
and old alike are turned to watch
the stories of David and Daniel unfold.
They cheer on their Lord and Savior
the Heisman winner as he defeats
tigers and bears and horned frogs.

They take the communion
of nachos and Bud Light as the choir
tries to rattle their aluminum pews
with the intensity of their hymns.
Voices of the congregation
join in the praise, hands raised
towards the blue heavens,
skin left pink from the touch
of the sun.

The Bible story is finished, good
vanquishing evil, and the most loyal
have the satisfaction of witnessing
a sight to behold: their sins being washed
away as the unsuspecting preacher
​is baptized in icy colored waters.