Lori’s fevered pitch
shouted essential body language
They were more delusions
than black magic—
she added somatic components.
Our living together
to a distance of a baseball throw.
I mean I was out in left field
trying to decipher
her definition of home.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Lisa walked over to the park across the street,
carried a can in one hand and a brush in the other
and a hand cloth in her left hip pocket.
She painted a big red X on the grass about half way
from the shortstop position and the bare spot
where the left fielder would stand.
Lisa left a note stating: My prophetic dream
marks this spot to be where a meteor
will strike in a fiery blaze of heavenly glory.
Even with the outfielders and infielders avoiding
the big red X with the superstitious fastidiousness
of a player on a forty-nine game hitting streak,
William, Lisa’s bloop-hitting nephew, increased
his batting average by only four points
during the two weeks it took the grass to grow
tall enough for the park services lawn mower
to clip away all the foreboding.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney