the Dominican shortstop rounds third

-
the Dominican shortstop rounds third
The smell of stale Bud Light and cigarettes
festering beneath
a mocking Memphis sun

is not the smell of home. He swings to greet
a 1-1 curve -- the number
of state-side years it’s been

since last he saw his wrinkled abuelita
kneading the grainy corn
tortillas he knows as well

as Grady’s signs at third -- and stretches to beat the
throw to first the way
his tita Isabel

would chase and beat him as a niño if he
forgot to sweep the colmado
out on Friday nights.

A pimply high school student yells out something
about frijoles while
he re-ties his Nike spikes.

He wonders whether the dusty, worn-out spot
in Juan’s azúcar field
where dark-skinned hitters rub

the ground down thin with rhythmic practice cuts
is still the holy grounds
of hopeful praying prospects.
The sound of "Summer of 69" fills up
the park like Armstrong fills
the zone on Friday nights,  

and Bombers' fans cheer on their Latino shortstop
leading off of first,
pivoting left and right,

dancing the dirt with salsa steps. But he
is elsewhere, sweating beneath
a dripping sugarcane sun

in Santiago, the sound of flip-flopped feet
pattering as he rounds
the burlap sack to beat
the throw, stretching for home.


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