The feel of a hand just below
my wrist

Slowly turning the world

Buzz of hospital lights like radio static, like
my grandfather listening as

the Pirates go into extra innings in
his middle age

His body shaped like mine

Center of the empty garage

Split-level house
on the edge of the Pines

When you faint your spirit halves like
a creek diverging in two

You abandon the turning inside
yourself

I’ve taken a pitch to the face and I know
what it’s like to be forgotten

Does God really remember what man cannot

When I came to the Heartland I abandoned
Two parts of myself

The first was my love for the game and the second
is something I cannot tell you