By Stuart Shea
A sphere spins towards the head.
A comebacker cracks a pitcher’s skull.
The outfield wall claims another body.
A collision takes out two.
A knee snaps.
A labrum tears.
A dream dies.
It’s a violent game.
Sometimes, it’s a shame.
Posted 8/8/10
Posted on 08/9/10
Published in Free Verse, Players, Stu Shea, The Game Itself, Uncategorized | Link to this poem | 1 Comment
Todd Herges wrote,
And sometimes, a head first slide and a good hard (and clean) tag leaves a man looking like a hockey player.
Sometimes, it’s a shame indeed. Nice one Stu.
Link | August 9th, 2010 at 1:14 pm