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POETRY
Like a Wild Pitch
By Jilly Dybka
Watching the pitching and hitting on game day,
my hair damp underneath my cap,
I hear the melody of bats.
Baseballs travel through space, full of voice.
Full of ghosts and sense-sound fantasy.
For a moment, a homer hangs in the air,
then sails past the old-timers.
Past the rookies.
The stadium can barely contain their youth.óEFQ
JILLY DYBKA works in information technology in Nashville, Tennessee,
where she roots for the Sounds PCL team. She has an MFA from Queens University
of Charlotte.
© 2006 Jilly Dybka
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