This is the first baseball poem I have ever written.—JK.

Home Run

The first pitch
inside and tight.
The batter’s flinch
the grunted “ball one”
the re-composing step
back into the box.

The second pitch
diving to the floor
of the flexible zone
swung on and missed
even the pitcher
surprised by the breeze.

The third pitch
rising like temperature
at a nasty debate
the batter allows
its swift escape.

The fourth pitch
from the inside looking out
the batter off guard
lines it into the camera well
deuces wild.

The fifth pitch
imitation of
the Arch de Triumphe
the batter knows
a ripoff when he hits it
high drive
somewhere over the rainbow
into the mighty river.