by Paul Kocak
In the wake
Of the last swing
(Or its simulacrum)
The season’s dust
Settles into memory
Fantasy and myth
In the dust
Of the last out
(Or its doppelgänger)
A season’s dreams
Run and hide
Hibernate and wait
In the spring
Of a scarred hope
(Or its trope)
One fan’s vision
Hungers for one more
Crack of that bat