Is it stupid to miss the awful smell

of body odor, of hockey?

Am I crazy to miss the hours spent freezing

in the rink?

I didn’t play, but I was a hockey sister.

An era of our lives is gone.


Skating was like breathing to them,

my hockey brothers.

I watched them

grow up.

I watched them

grow apart to separate teams.


The hockey sisters grew apart too,

went to separate colleges.

We were built-in friends when the team traveled.

Now, we’re only memories.


Justice is not done.

One poem cannot encapsulate years.

But it’s a start.

Goodbye, Sharks.


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