Curt Flood in CopenhagenRyan Harper
In a nation of water
drawing on edges
the outfielder stands—artist
touching up his piece, latest
young man to deign east
his private gift, unto death.
Difficulties everywhere
he mixes media:
charcoal, watercolor, new
events on paper, guided
but bleeding beyond
his strokes—graded wash, windblown
fly, runner picked off, cutoff
misaligned, stumped streak:
imprecise events, arrayed
before him, every agent
free—there is the rub
of mixed media unbound,
sombré, cardinal to crimson
and back, unresolved.
Curt Flood knows this is his piece—
the soft drafts in Denmark—
shaping at remove
his undiscovered country,
moving, becoming himself
the movement, the tracked
fly, the cutoff man turning.
Water like despair holding
with its promises
its danger, he follows through.