The Man With Wide Shoulders
errol miller
When he looked down
he saw shadows everywhere
when at bat he never struck out
following the game and local news
he silenced severe critics
who sent horrible letters
to him and the league, everyone
was complaining about the lighting
but he kept on slugging
on his own turf
and in the striped linen tents
of deep dark imperial nights, he
was filled with dreams and a mighty tiger
he remembering flying above and beyond
he was superb as an aviator
he was lover
he was New York City champion
lifting his body higher and higher
until his shadow
covered North America
and all of the frail pitchers
he had ever known.
