The Field

Posted: April 10, 2011 in Poems
Tags: , , , ,

I’m yelling at her as loud as possible.
Pressed against the fence, fingers
laced in chains, I call suggestions.
Stay sideways, use the back leg!
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt,
it’s all I can do. Scream and hope
she hears me. Learns from me.
Eyes closed, I remember.

Glove on my left hand, ball in my right,
the seams rubbed against fingertips
as it’s held against my side.
Dirt smeared across my uniform shorts.
Getting the signal, the two came
together and neon flew
from my hip.

Jeans skim the dirt and flip-flops snap
as I walk to the middle of the infield.
I look where my ghost now resides,
the shadow of a player. Then with a kick
of the dirt, she vanishes and
I leave without looking back.
I don’t miss her.

Copyright Danielle Meeker 2011

  1. Dad says:

    I like your new poem Dan…The Field…it made me think, then I needed to ask Mom for more interpretation. Remember my motto, “If it ain’t in People magazine, I haven’t read it.”

    Love, Dad

  2. Dad says:

    Wow, I like this version even better. Very powerful! Love, Dad

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