Vol. 1, No. 1: The First Pitch photo

WORLD CUP David Radavich

Here they are
running and cutting,
faking to grab
the referees’ eyes

greensward bending
hard as glass

sunlight aching
across the afternoon

one stolen pass
after another

hits to kneecaps

somehow
an orb finally
nestles in the net

rejoicing

shirts in the air—

this poem
without words