the next man in

bats with a frozen salmon
his shoes shine
glossy as melted caramel
his laces slip like snakes
into the grass and away
they make the boundary
before the ball
spins itself
into a smart 6
fielders lounge
palm to ear
elbow to the turf
no longer interested
in standing to attention
and it’s not the same
the knock of leather
on fish
doesn’t have the same ring
as willow
Jan Dean

About Jan Dean

This entry was posted in A poem a day for April and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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