by Raphael Badagliacca
Of all the moments in the game
none is more lonely than this . . .
when the visitors wildly exclaim
their joy and celebrate
their happy fate
the less than one percent
like marauders of old
in the sacred home they desecrate
while thousands look on in stony silence.
Published in Ballparks, Fans, Free Verse, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments