"Casey at the Hospice" [by James Cummins]

I want to turn on an inside pitch.

I want to feel the ball against my bat.

I want to feel a death like that.

 

I read my daughters Cat In The Hat,

thought I was a good dad; that was rich.

I want to turn on an inside pitch.

 

I lost myself in husband fat,

dreamed of dusty diamonds, that old itch.

I want to feel a death like that.

 

I’ve sat where the players sat,

bitched where the players bitch.

I want to turn on an inside pitch.

 

The pitcher glares at me, tugs his hat.

I want to knock him in a ditch.

I want to feel a death like that.

 

Somewhere, my swing has lost its hitch.

Somewhere, my belly and the land are flat.

I want to turn on an inside pitch.

I want to feel a death like that.

-- James Cummins

Comments

[B. Jackell]

This poem reminds me of the poem "Casey at the Bat." Is that deliberate?

[Laura Orem]

This is heartbreaking. Bravo.

[early wynn]

Thanks, Laura! And yes, B., this plays off the famous poem by E. L. Thayer. In fact, there's a whole series of Casey poems; the U of Chicago Press has a great book, "The Annotated Casey at the Bat," which brings about twenty or so of them together, as I recall. The last one is Casey at 70, who returns to hit a home run three miles or more to win the game--and then, in the locker room afterwards, chatting with reporters, tells them about his "goat gland" operation that has restored his youth and virility!

[B. Jackell]

Casey on steroids?

[jim cummins]

Ha. That's one for you to do. Maybe denying it to a congressional committee?