Elysian Fields Quarterly - The Baseball Review

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They're in town to read at a museum,
Carver fresh in love and no longer drinking.
Cheever doesn't understand that thinking.
Ray's happy to back Johnís team
though he's never cared much for the game.
Cheever drinks and roots as if he's making
notes for a speech, saying witty things
like All literary men are Red Sox fans,
and when that pissant little shortstop
knocks a fastball up and over Yaz's head
Cheever stands to go and says:
I've seen enough—the death of hope,
the home run that broke New England's back,
and Ray, by God, I've written my last book.

—EFQ

AMORAK HUEY, a journalist and writer in Grand Rapids, Michigan, has been a Dodgers fan since Davey Lopes and Bill Russell patrolled the middle of the infield. He is studying in the M.F.A. program at Western Michigan University and has published poems in journals such as Spitball, White Pelican Review, Steam Ticket, The Driftwood Review, Controlled Burn, and Birmingham Arts Journal.