Batter Up, by Lynne Schmidt

Posted on October 10, 2019

I have been in love a handful of times.

But that handful was full of headlight glass after a car accident.

A broken mirror dangling off the side,

and something so molded it turned liquid and slipped through my fingers.

I loved ferociously, the way a lion takes down its prey.

Or rather the last scream the prey makes before its final breath.

I have been both, the lion, the dead carcass

and sometimes neither felt good.

You said love the way some men order drinks in the bar

but you never left a tip.

You curled my name on your lips,

a whisper of fog on pavement on nights it’s hard to drive home.

Annoyed because any other night,

these roads are easier to navigate

and right now it’s more like driving through ghosts.

You have been in love less than a handful of times

because the things your hands hold

look more like baseball bats

and my heart is a punching bag.

*The 64, best poets of 2018*

Black Mountain Press