In Principio

Standing on the pitcher’s mound in an
Empty stadium as if it were the
Axis mundi, she lifts the baseball like a
Sacrifice to the gods.
Eve of ten billion nights
Pitches the ball;
The game begins.
The players appear.
The arena is packed.
Let there be Life.
Let there be Death.
Let there be the Death-life of the masses
Content to cheer behind the chain-link
In the comfort-desperation of the stands,
To watch the Living play on that
Lush verdant field.
The batter may strike out, yet, in that moment,
He feels the wood of the bat in his dusted hands,
The rush of blood in his neck, the trickle
Of sweat on his temples,
The exhilaration of the swing,
And there, in a micro-second, he
Senses his own genesis.