"FOR TOM HARDY" BY FRANK O'HARA

"A leaving word in the sand, odor of tides: his name"
— Thinking of Tom Hardy

Tom Hardy
actor
made in UK

Have we ever known
about excellence? it's
real in this world
difficult muscle
you never not unripped

MUSCLE

for AM

These are the smoked streaky back bacon men,
flesh pressed against oily cellophane skin,

sausages cooked to burst. Extra lean meat,
joints of beef, sweat on a low oven's heat,

tendons tightening then softening tender
under the striplights. Sheep hearts and liver,

all of the offal that fills out the back
and thighs. Cured, hung for months in a smoke-stack

or salted on hooks in a meat cellar.
Some say the swelling is saline, water

injected under the rinds, ninety-six
percent nothing but oatmeal and sawdust.

THE DIVER

10 metres high, the diver

is tightening his calves,

preparing the spring of a mousetrap

that, sprung, will rebound,

through his quads, potential

that powers him skywards

through swimming pool echoes.

At the apex, the abdominals

flex, mid twist, to lift 

legs into a pike that carves

somersault, somersault, somersault

from a second of air.

At this speed he should bomb

on the surface, but snaps

a near-miracle from his momentum

to break water flat, straight

and firm. His fingers and hands

and arms and head and pectorals,

his buttocks and legs and feet,

his toes slip through a rip entry,

a gasp, the splash of a pebble

that ripples a moment and goes.

Below, his body is caught

and softened, returned to applause.