Jul/Aug 2003 Poetry Special Feature

Tuesday Night on Field #2

by D.W. Hayward


Tuesday Night on Field #2

She suspects that the Other Pitcher
Has a secret trick, a method that
Is immune to chatter from the dugout
And the heat, and number 23, (the big girl)

It's just a suspicion, because she tries
With her 12-year-old arm to be Consistent
And Accurate, but something fades and it's
A brick skidding across the plate

The Other Pitcher doesn't smile or talk
She doesn't need to keep an eye on the runners
Because there aren't any runners (crap!)
The Other Pitcher has a special shirt that is different

She sings a song that will maybe (please!)
Keep it in the middle, come on, come on,
Same speed, same speed, same speed,
The wind picks up dust, a good time to wipe your eyes

A little rabbit in the outfield has had lots
Of time to feel safe; nothing odd will happen out here
The batter actually opens her mouth in surprise
A really fast one drills the middle, just like
Hitting the white square on the swingset

There was this movie about a ball player
Who didn't even want to go to Heaven
Because he liked to play so much
He wasn't a pitcher, though


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