In an ongoing series, the editors, former contributors, and readers of Eclectica have been invited to write a poem containing four pre-chosen words. The words for this issue are arm, patch, center, and strike.
If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the new words are brew, indigo, paper, and cruise.
(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole poem)
Taking Casey Out
The mightiest arm,
hit dead center
My last game with Dad
Dad's a champion. I'm his daughter, and I know nothing of carrom.
spume of pride reared in him then.
Baseball with the Boys
Come spring we crashed the boys' baseball
games, goaded them into letting us play
by accusing them of being scared we were better.
The family elders always thought
It was just a rough patch
Something Prince would grow out
M. A. Dennis
It will be an eager recruit
about your age
with a patch of an eager moustache
who comes to the door
But spring struck
armed with wet vengeance
and the first dry day
Back When Chicago Bars All Had Old Style Signs Hanging Outside
I was eight. Scared shitless.
I stood in front of the door for a while
listening to what was on the other side
Bell Ringing in the East Bronx
Bell song rockets
out into the splash of rain on a city street. Everything
is the color of steel: shadows, stones, the sky and all