O

By PETER FILKINS

As the deaf-mute grocery clerk

puckers curious to a chorus “O”

to ask what kind of mushrooms

he should be ringing up, I think

 

of Ortiz and last night’s double

sailing like a lit-up vowel

toward the bleachers in center-left,

the outfielder unsure if it might

 

carry The Monster or carom off

when, in fact, it hits the warning

track, goes dead, toppling the fielder

 

painfully into the dirt, Ortiz

on second, me mouthing “oyster”

to the reaches of the Mystic Big Y.

Peter Filkins is a poet and translator who teaches at Bard College at Simon’s Rock. His books include After Homer and The View We’re Granted.
O

Related Posts

Tree

May 2022 Poetry Feature

By ELIZABETH METZGER
For now, let us choose not to remember / who said History repeats as Tragedy then Farce, / and who else / repeated such nonsense / with variations because, friends, allow me / to be pedantic, just this moment. History repeats / as Tragedy more than once.

sunset and forest trees

Hummingbird Tantra

CORRIE WILLIAMSON
Red draws their tiny eye, and every hummingbird / feeder you can buy blooms a plastic, stoic / ruby, effigy of flower, tadasana of red. Already / they have eaten me out of sugar, but forgetful today / I’ve left the sliding porch door wide, and on my couch / a cheery wool blanket...

Headshot of J.D.

Side Mirror

J.D. SCRIMGEOUR
You’re floundering in flashes of light and dark, / so after a few minutes you scoot inside / because January’s cold, and ask your wife for help, / embarrassed you can’t do even this simple task. / She peers over her glasses, studies the tape, / then returns it unstuck, separated...