FIELD BOX 54

by Alejandro Escudé



Its come down to this: empty
major league baseball stands
while the game goes on below,


except for the one skeleton
sitting in Field Box 54, wolfing
down a hot dog whole, tossing peanuts
into its open jaw.


The hot dog bun perfectly preserved
and the pristine peanut shells
scattering past the skeleton’s severed
spinal chord.


The lonely announcer
can’t believe his eyes. “It appears
to be enjoying the game!” he says.


And why not? The whole stadium
to itself, Orioles against
the White Sox, nothing to worry about,


though it still remembers
the gelid badge pressed to its ear

and the godforsaken fear.

Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems, My Earthbound Eye, in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.

MEANWHILE

by Earl J. Wilcox

Everth Cabrera bats against the White Sox in the eighth inning of the Orioles' 8-2 win at Camden Yards. The game was closed to the public. It was the first time a major league game had been played without a paying crowd, according to MLB historian John Thorn.  (Kenneth K. Lam / Baltimore Sun April 29, 2015)

The gulls from the nearby harbor start the wave.
The cotton candy droops, hot dogs cold, no beer today.
The organ player plays and sings Take Me Out to the Ball Game.
The bull pen players scratch where and when they please.
Rain or shine, the teams play on as if thousands were in the stands.
Abner Doubleday smiles, the Babe is baffled, Gehrig speaks to no one.

Earl J. Wilcox writes about aging, baseball, literary icons, politics, and southern culture. His work appears in more than two dozen journals; he is a regular contributor to The New Verse News. More of Earl's poetry appears at his blog, Writing by Earl.