Barrio Guanacaste,
Matagalpa, Nicaragua

Ten young boys play baseball

in a dirt lot
in their neighborhood

With straight stick in his hands

one, dark-haired, rich-skinned

swings at the old tennis ball

& off it soars
over a barbed-wire pen

…& beyond…

The oldest on his team

in a torn blue muscle shirt
grey patch-pocket pants
& scuffed black dress shoes

yells —Corré, corré—

The batter runs

& touches the first base rock

—Segunda base, segunda base—

his teammate yells

& off he runs

looking over his shoulder to where

the ball has finally been found

in the dry weeds

touches second

—Corré, corré—

he is told

He closes his eyes

passes the piglet

licking its mother’s belly

looking for her teats

& crosses the homeplate brick

just as the ball passes his face

into the pitcher’s bare waiting hands