by Stephen Jones
Anticipation’s eyes locked
pitcher-to-batter batter-to-pitcher
catcher & umpire the close-ended
joint of a bright green fan laid down
spread open warning track edged
& in an outfield’s groomed grass
a leather glove thumped waiting
.
Posted 6/29/2009
Published in The Game Itself, Free Verse, Players | Link to this poem |
