-Columbus Park Incident-

Inching the stiff, the blue

Denim's unforgiving cuff above the knee, the terrible

Wound is exposed,––

Its flap of torn flesh, pleated

Like an accordion’s bellows, is hung

At the edge of rawness, the wound
Stinging like hell

And to make matters worse

I was called out at second,—

Called out by Albert "Rags" Ragonesi 

The usual pick-up umpire

Who couldn’t play ball worth the butt

of a benchwarmer.

It was a hook to remember,— 
The slide into second, the wake
Of dust beneath the hanging

Glove of Bobby Petrillo, its pocket

Filled with baseball,— the tip of the sneaker

Hooking the bag's right-field corner in a move
As slick as lubricant.

Ragonesi, you bum!

Now the wound,

The slide's last testament,

Stings like the tail-

End of an angry wasp

As I hobble across the infield

To the backstop where

From the bubbler of the fountain

The coolness of water

Is palmed to the wound's raw flesh 

And the game is paused like a silent
Stretch splitting the 7th.

Quequechan, 1953