Batter Up

Mother visits my dreams
almost every night this week.

Tonight she shares photographs.
Me playing recess softball in seventh grade.

I had forgotten that person
who fumbled balls,
couldn't hit them,
was always chosen last for the team
because of a lazy eye
that didn't let me see
where things were coming from.

The ball could land right beside me,
even bounce off my head
as I groped to catch it.
I could bat at the wind,
ball five feet away
while the other kids watched,
laughing.

But tonight...
tonight in those photos
mother brings,
I catch every fly,
I smoke every ball.






Pris Campbell
©2010

Published in Blackmail Press 2011

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