Thursday Poem

Will We Survive?

Maybe if we all become that second baseman
who sprinted right, dove, snagged the grounder,
thudded to a stop, too late to get up or change
hands, too late to do anything but what he could
not do, had never tried, could not have done if he had tried:
shovel the gloved ball backhanded over his back,
without looking, to the shortstop. No,
not to the shortstop, but to where the shortstop
would be when he flew across the bag,
barehanded the ball, toed the bag, swiveled,
elevated above the spikes-up, take-out slide,
high enough to make the throw
to first for the double play. Game over.
The not-doable, done. No sound at all inside
the redundant thunder of applause.

by Peter Harris
from Freeing the Hook
Deerbrook Editions, 2013