Thursday, February 17, 2011

Hank Kalet - "Sonnet for Bob Gibson"

When he pitched
he had a look that said
he'd just as soon as stab you
as shake your hand;

towering, he would stare
as imposing a figure
as anything the Greeks could conjure;
heíd grip the ball fingers across stitching,

rear back and fire
and the batter would spin and twist,
a spastic ballerina
diving to the dirt and

Gibson would stare, glove hand out
as if this were the natural order of things.


Elysian Fields Quarterly

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