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she once thought his face
brought her home to sun
speckled shadows that
cooled her and white-hot
blazes that burned within

one glance and her lungs
began drowning in moist
humidity gasping for
the slightest whisp of breeze
coming off the Atlantic

she looked away her home
wasn’t just stifling heat and
scorching sunshine it was
also diving into cerulean and
inhaling freshly cut emeralds

her home welcomed her
his face turned her out
her home comforted her
his face was vacant a
sign that read For Rent

© Pamela Rossow

Home

bases loaded two outs
on deck switch hitter
swinging the air seasoned
with spicy yellow mustard
and tangy sauerkraut
clay disturbed rising as
cleats ready themselves
hamstrings taut calves
tensed oxygen gulped
next up pawing then the
pitch cracking contact ball
sprouts wings flies out of the
park crowd kinetic screaming
energy he runs rounding
bases 1st 2nd 3rd home

Pamela A. Rossow