Here is an erasure poem I did in my writing group a while ago. I found it while cleaning up paperwork on my desk. It came from an article about football. Football is not where it ended up. Here’s the text if I were to format it like a poem:
Every shudder of injury for the usual reasons
adds a third layer of dread.
Conjecture about his eventual return.
The when. The what-if. The where does that leave you know who.
This is the act we’ve reached now
the breaking collarbone, the absence, the relief
elevated him to legend
This. Is. Fantastic.
I can’t wait to get my hands on the Money page.