Tom Brady's Hair

No one saw this coming
the dominance this year
how effortless it moved the ball
through beasts and schemes and snow,
so strong and multi-layered
so perfect like Apollo,
with nods to every football decade
of hair: the shag, the crew, the mullet,
from Bobby Layne to Willie Joe
to something once barbaric,
like the first white guy to wear a pink tuxedo
no quarterback dared pull this off before,
and it's well-thought-out, superb in all its details
it's not a tawdry gimmick or a trick,
no pseudo-Rastafari braids or Polynesian fro
it's a coif of the messiah
that jostles in the wind
like Jehovah's very breath.

No one saw this coming
this Samson per Giselle,
no one imagined Belichick
would have his finest hour
in the autumn of his career
by whispering, from his concrete-colored hoodie
in his impressionable prodigy's ear
"this off-season I need you to concentrate,
put the work into your hair."