And the most touching part
is it’s my son’s idea—
a grownup now—
to drag out of the closet
the two gloves
and unblemished baseball
with Randy Wolf’s autograph.
To go across to the field
and to circle once more
under dizzying pop flies
and stoop for grounders,
to smile as if at an old joke
when one of us tries
to revive a knuckler
or serve up a curve.
After sharing the news
a silence between us
I’d attempted to fill
with the straight pitch
of shopworn assurances:
caught it early,
top doctors, high cures,
but here in the field
it’s easy enough
to settle into the familiar
rhythm of whipping a baseball
back and forth—
father and son a pair of workers,
or like passengers on a ride,
the thud in each glove
as certain as a period
in a declarative sentence
that for now, at least,
is clear, understood.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 23, Issue 5.
Joseph Chelius has contributed poetry to Commonweal, Poetry East, Poet Lore, Rattle, THINK, and other journals. He has published two poetry collections with WordTech editions: The Art of Acquiescence (2014) and Crossing State Lines (2020).
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