THE SHORTSTOP
His glove, like him, pliant, oiled,
shows worn patches. But all that’s past fades
into illusive speculation–intellectual dross–
when halfway to the outfield fence he scoops
the relay, spins and feels the ball go hard and straight
right at the catcher’s glove. His selfhood glows:
No thrill to match the pure elation of a perfect throw.
A Perfect Throw, by Robert Joe Stout. Aldrich Press (http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Throw-Robert-Joe-Stout)
Posted in: Poetry
mexicoconamor 
Posted on September 18, 2015
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