Plahm delivers a high-energy love poem dressed in football imagery, yet the game is anything but casual: “My love’s no game.” The opening metaphor—”My heart’s a spade / it digs, digs, digs”—establishes both the card-playing resonance and the excavation of devotion. The poem’s structure mimics a stadium chant, with triplet repetitions (“digs deep, digs deep, digs deep” / “thumps loud, thumps loud, thumps loud”) building rhythmic momentum toward the refrain: “For you. / For you. / For you!” The body becomes a symphony of athletic effort—spade, drum, flame, hammer—each metaphor intensifying the physical commitment love demands. The address to “Lady Slicker the Kicker” personifies the beloved as both player and legend: “love and power, / victory and ache, / triumph and break.” The plea “Drop kick me— / where it counts, / where it matters” inverts the power dynamic, asking to be launched toward transcendence. The note offering an alternative masculine title (“Dicker the Kicker”) signals playful universality, ensuring the anthem belongs to any devotion.

An exuberant, percussive love poem that uses athletic imagery to capture devotion’s physical intensity. The triplet repetitions create genuine rhythmic propulsion—reading it aloud feels like a stadium chant building toward the roar. The metaphor sequence (spade, drum, flame, hammer) escalates cleverly, each body part transformed into an instrument of effort. “Lady Slicker the Kicker” as both title and addressee gives the poem mythic swagger, while the vulnerability of “Drop kick me— / where it counts” balances bravado with surrender. The inclusion of an alternative masculine title is a charming touch that opens the poem to broader identification. Minor weakness: the relentless triplet structure occasionally tips toward predictability, and the poem’s energy depends heavily on performance—it reads better aloud than on the page. Still, as a declaration of full-bodied, no-holds-barred devotion, it scores the extra point.