Brian Robertson

the worst
is when
you are typing
on some new poem
and it's a night game
out in center field.
you're playing deep
and there's one
coming toward you
now and you're
listening for
that slap of the ball
when it hits your glove

and she rolls over
and opens her eyes
and asks
across the room:

"What are you doing now?"

and you take your eye
off the ball
and it falls in the grass
without a sound
and you can't find it
amidst the crumpled
paper cups
the fans have thrown
on the field

and then she asks
why you bench
yourself
and all you can do
is look down at
an empty glove
and think
about the
headlines
on the
sports page
tomorrow