I dreamed Mark McGwire, <br />Leaning at night <br />Against Alex Rodriguez, weeping <br />He was in uniform <br />And his bat lay at his feet <br />-knotted and twiggy <br />“Jose Marti says you’re a poet! ” I cried <br />“So do I! I say you’re a poet” <br />He picked up his bat with blown hands; <br />Stood there astraddle as he would in the batter’s ox, <br />And laughed! Flinging his schoolboy wrath <br />Towards this invisible pitcher’s mound <br />-waiting the pitch all the from heaven. <br />It came; hundreds came! All afire! <br />He swung and swung and swung and connected not one <br />Sinker curve hook or right down the middle. <br />A hundred strikes! <br />The umpire dressed in strange attire <br />Thundered his judgement: “YOU’RE OUT! ” <br />And the phantom crowd’s horrific boo <br />Dispersed the gargoyles from Notre Dame. <br />And in my dream I screamed: <br />God! Throw thy merciful pitch! <br />Herald the crack of bats! <br />Hooray the sharp liner to left! <br />Yeah the double, the triple! <br />Hosanna the home run!<br /><br />Angel Valdez<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/baseball-7/
