Vol. 1, No. 2: Line Drives & Bloop Hits photo

An Ode to the Line-drives as They Curl to Drop Thirty Feet Beyond the Second Baseman Over & Over Again in My Dreams Darren C. Demaree

You can tell me
it’s the same
as moving a chair

from one corner
of my mind to another,
but I only know

how to peg a fastball
on the inside black
while I’m looking

for a pitch away.
My hands hold a flood
for the weak spot

in the riverbank.
It doesn’t matter
that I don’t hit it flush,

I round first
without a catch
in my knees.

The water is smooth
in my quick-twitch
dreams. 

I wait months for it
to roll me bare
into the crop

of my youth. I am
still the bloom when
I describe the bloom.