Down step again, turning down again.
I find his fastball up in my eyes,
, rosin
step again forwardown to the basement
socks, pants, shirts, towels thrown wet
together into high heat

thrown up at my neck again
backing out, thrill, flame, falling away
what will be done must
be done by me,
on my ass
up again brushing the scuff dirt away.
If he’s going to hit me he’s going to hit me.

He’s going to hit me,
the coins pushed
fall into square tin sound collected
and begin the turning tumble dry climb back
to where I live. I must live here, dig in
watch the sky, the red blur seam
the corridor walls toward and past me into the bright
white gathering sun, struck, hello I’ve been
hit. Massage pained and hold the
bat, I hold the bat, smile.
The pitcher down gathering nonchalant, dust
dry, I return down around time between me and
time I’ve returned the hot stung static
clothes shocked continue to massage my arm,
nod, hand off my bat, shrug,
take my base. Now I’ve a new endeavor.
First to second. Second to third. Third to home.
I turn the key in my door, enter, fold
, arm over chest, arm over chest
chest fold, fold again up, signal on
next up, batter up.

Post a Comment | Trackback URI