May 5: Stuart Dybek, "Clothespins," Summer Baseball

Clothespins

by:  Stuart Dybek

I once hit clothespins   

for the Chicago Cubs.   

I'd go out after supper   

when the wash was in   

and collect clothespins   

from under four stories   

of clothesline.   

A swing-and-a-miss   

was a strike-out;   

the garage roof, Willie Mays,   

pounding his mitt   

under a pop fly.   

Bushes, a double,   

off the fence, triple,   

and over, home run.   

The bleachers roared.   

I was all they ever needed for the flag.   

New records every game—

once, 10 homers in a row!   

But sometimes I'd tag them   

so hard they'd explode,   

legs flying apart in midair,   

pieces spinning crazily   

in all directions.   

Foul Ball! What else   

could I call it?   

The bat was real.   

_________________________

I'm not much of a baseball fan, but, when I start seeing baseball games on TV in the evenings, I know that summer is upon us.  Plus, I couldn't resist this poem by Stuart Dybek, a wonderful writer and teacher.  Had him for a fiction workshop once.  He was gracious and kind.

Saint Marty is up to bat.