Baseball Poems

The Cathers Learns the Motion

  by Tim Peeler
 
and is often the hub of the movements,
he reads the Morse code of the pitcher
and returns the speech of the dumb,
 
he loves the sphere and its ridges,
rips it from the tight mitt
with or against the seams
whistles it from a frog squat.
 
the catcher learns
he is the hat of the hat dance,
the pitcher may think himself
the center of gravity,
but the catcher
waits at the apex of the great angles,
 
slaps the leather trap
on the errant razor
as it spits up from the dust.
 
the catcher imprints the motions of the hitters,
checks the rhythm of their passages,
knows he must slip an extra measure
at the end of their cha-cha-cha,
 
the catcher is the great disturber,
can cock twice on his return throw,
spit on the plate, call for the "buzzer"
block the ump's clear visage,

bilingual kamikaze
chattering like a wired chimp,
muttering with silent busted digits,
sacrificing legs
to the varicose crouch and
the ruinous crunch
of the few that get through
to thin armor. 

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Touching All Bases
   Poems from Baseball
Tim Peeler
www.mcfarlandpub.com