OCCUPATIONS: I (The Ski-Jumper)

The Ski-Jumper

A human "H" soars against a mountain,

The cold logos of his uniform,

The mobile phone and car companies also launched in the air,

Captured by photography.

He lands with a whisper of snow,

A pile of seeming cocaine.

The crowd applauds.

The jumper curses (the Slovakian judge gave him a seven);

Tonight he will take himself and his name,

As long as a ski (Ingebertholdikristenstensen),

And walk, ski-less, to the tavern,

Where he will clink glasses with

The bobsledders, luge-sledders, and girls

–and joke and laugh until the human "H" becomes a very human "S."

In the morning again he will sit on the wooden board,

Looking down on the porridge of people,

And fly again,

Feeling the upsurge of alcohol

In the tunnel-shoot of his throat,

The chambers of his head-

Aiming for that textbook landing.