Forgotten Not

Street whose image I unlock
Bat from kidnapped household mop
Its dangling hairpiece neatly lopped
Rubber ball with heart of kangaroo
Pink as birth and always true
Borrowed glove that served for two
Old vacant lot that had no name
And all the boys who running came
Their voices ringing round the block
That held our private hall of fame

I want them back I have no shame
I want to see my curve unfurl
Caress the sculpted sewer top
Elude that naked dancing mop
And curl with triumphant pop
Into that friendly magic slot
That grinning squats behind the plate

I want to feel my body brace
And bend its endless store of grace
Into the wind before my face
And watch it send that ball of flame
To scald the sky and win the game

I want another crack at fate
To shake the sign that means too late
To shun the catcalls of the crowd
And arbiters of what’s allowed

That nameless space still holds my spot
My hand still wears that faithful glove
And days I warm its skin with love
And nights I trot that empty lot

Forgotten not forgotten not

5/3-5/28/95

Copyright 1995 by Maurice Leiter

Posted with permission.