Bat Boy: A Poem

D.A. Powell, a Bay Area writer and educator, finds poetry in America's favorite pastime.

da powell
D.A. Powell

there were times
when he swung
I was sure
he’d hit me
other times
I wished for
such contact
he swung for
the fences
and dropped that
hot wood like
a blacksmith’s
hot horseshoe
my hands scorched
when I picked
up his bat
why couldn’t I
be the one
who hit that

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