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April 5, 2016

Two Poems

Sandra Marchetti

The Unsayable
                      The Chicago Cubs last won a World Series championship in 1908

If it never happened,
would we go on buying
the season tickets, scuffling
through turnstiles, slowed
at the bag check?

If it never happened,
would we split a pizza
and a pop, a bag of chips
or a beer, huddling
as we handed over the cash?

If it never happened,
would we still applaud
the blue pennant tentative
to ascend the flagpole
after a series’ win?

If it never happened,
would we root on a .500
club, be pleased with less
than 200 strikeouts,
20 errors at short?

We flicker in our seats, dimly
recede, but never leave. 

                       “Like a blind man at the ballgame, I need a radio.” ~Annie Dillard

In the stands, I twist the dial to find you.
I click the knob then dump the clothes pile.
Walking to Dairy Queen I hear your fear—
he gave it up in the ninth, alright.

The scenes your consonants round—
those ballpark sounds—scruff rough
on my skin. You dictate my stillness
and my bend. Along the network line,
you refine each strike in attempts to mend.