-->Back to Current Issue


Dock Ellis Pitches a No-No on LSD
By Jilly Dybka

The ball's big—like lobbing a volleyball.
And the batter's box is so far away.
Tiny ball, red ball, white ball, rainbow ball.
Wasn't even supposed to play today.
The batters are whiffing in slow motion
Because their strike zone is five miles wide.
The catcher is wavy like the ocean,
Before my release, have to time the tide.
Straight bat, bendy bat, big bat, little bat.
Feels like I'm pitching inside of a dream.
I'm flying as high as an acrobat,
My fingers feel every stitch in the seam.
I wonder what all the fuss is about?
I'm just trying to get the guy out.


JILLY DYBKA's poems have appeared in Presence, Struggle Magazine, EFQ, and A Gathering of the Tribes. She works in information systems, is married to a jazz musician, and roots for the Nashville Sounds.

© 2005 Jilly Dybka


In the Batter's BoxBring Us HomeOn the NewsstandSample an Issue
Submit a storyTell a FriendAdvertise with usOur First at batPrivacy Statement

© 1999 - 2006 Elysian Fields Quarterly Web Master Dahlke Designs