When I Leave & You’re Me

When I Leave & You’re Me

By Liam Wholihan

Fresh drag down & the rough
holes patched, mix thin & holding
together. Look up dummy, we work
in heaven. That shed’s actually a whole
middle school. Clouds make it & the elms
so little with how close they hover, clot light
& tangle one another. I needed the
dieselchug zeroturn to stall under me
in the overthick outfield, its blades
 to sputter up clumps they couldn’t cut, to notice.
 
All it’d take now to convince me
this sky is a river would be a way to fall
into it & drink. The Sand Pro, lollythrottling
& bucking, managed to sweep its own tire tracks
with each circle I drug closer. The chalk we laid stuck,
the promised rain simply passed sheepish behind our shoulders,
& not a footprint left between us laying our batters boxes,
foul lines, what I’m willing to a call a circleperfect
pitchers mound. Don’t let the coaches bother you.
 
I only listen to umps & the blind man who feeds
the stray tabbies by the maintenance shed. You’ll
find them sleeping on the hood of the darkest
car in the lot. This year it’s always been
mine. I leave my name in the trunk
when I put on my gloves. Try it
tomorrow, no one asks.

Liam Wholihan spent four years tending to baseball and softball fields in West Virginia.

Elliot Lin is a college student who spends their free time musing about sports and how they shape or reflect identity. You can find their other baseball-related illustrations here, or on Twitter @hxvphaestion and Tumblr.

The Twin Bill is a nonprofit organization with 501(c)(3) tax-exempt status. You can support The Twin Bill by donating here.