Sunday, 26 February 2012

Sunday Poem


Tonight I drive to the ballgame, the first
of the season here. The night grass shines
in the lights, and the white church far beyond
right field glows against the early summer
sky. I can't keep score of how many times
I've thought it would be good to see a game,
then go get married in that church. And now
I wonder if you've phoned and wondered why

I wasn't there and where I was. I am
here, love, way out west, waiting the weeks
away, my life between innings, between
games of a day-night double-header.
I feel like a high fly in magic flight
momentarily lost in the lights
before I return to earth, caught
in this field of dreams and your soft hands.
From Wrestling with Angels: New and Selected Poems (1995) by Doug Beardsley

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