Les Règles du Jeu



To go forwards, passes must go backwards. Forwards
line up behind the pack. Fly-halves don’t fly.

Wingers are wingless, hookers aren’t what you think.
Touch doesn’t mean lovers holding hands.

Kicks are both up and under. To drop a goal
isn’t giving up a dream, nor is a ruck

a maul, let alone a scrum. Tries aren’t attempts
but scores. Conversions have nothing to do with religion

and don’t spring rogues from sin-bins. The oval ball
bounces in unpredictable ways. Points come

in fives, or threes, or twos. Players are brutes
but those still standing at the final whistle

clap each other off the pitch as though
gentlemen survivors of The War.

Nobody asks what the whole thing is for.


Tom Vaughan

 
If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them