Life Before Life

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
On the golf course alone at dusk,
sand traps beckon like Homer’s Sirens, 
greens slick and tilted—
playing with the ghosts 
of Arnold Palmer and Sam Snead.
All three balls split the fairway, 
mine out front by a good twenty yards.
“Shot!” they call out;


Canto II

On the hardwood court, sweaty bright, 
bringing the ball up, surveying options,
ball kisses fingertips, needing to share, 
calculating— pass, pass, swish, “Get back”—
sneakers squeaking, “Switch,”
the ball,
 a constant drumbeat, 
rips the netting;

Canto III

On the gridiron, Friday night, October chill,
crowd leaning in along the limed sidelines, 
pom pom pretties bounce— she’s there—
the whistle’s shrill cry, 
ball soars, 
heart pounding race—
quarterback barks like a San Francisco seal,
darting toward, an instant of daylight, 
a sliver of open, 
then a crowd of thud, 
and a face full of turf;

Oh, the games boys play 
to get ready for the rest.

. . . j  
from the Childhood Remedy and Other Such collection

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s