Alison Lubar
GRAND SLAM

Tacoma WA, 1939

Jack takes a baseball bat
to the river. August spawning season.
…………….The dry rocktops steam
like the belly of a monster cut open.
…………….Unlaces right boot, then
left, pulls them off without sitting and sets
…………….each woolen sock safely
inside. There is no one out sunning today.

Salmon bounce and skip
upstream, suddenly buoyant and silver.
…………….Across the frothing surface,
Jack wades in halfway amidst the frenzy.
…………….He winds up, tight as a fist,
smacks one out of midair toward the bank—
…………….it lands next to his shoes.
Not all hits are lucky. Not everyone is lucky.

Jack knows he’s firstborn—
blessed. Extra pressure to provide as the sole
…………….sober near-adult. A quarry
of four; he will share with his sister. He escapes
…………….hunger and a beating
that night. No one is ever full. When he’s bunted
…………….across the room, it’s so
his little brother isn’t. We can only break the cycles
…………….we know we’re a part of.

He feels nothing for the fish struck out of the air
…………….like a perfect pitch. Stoic hit.
They never see it coming.

Alison Lubar teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. They are a queer, nonbinary femme of color whose life work (aside from wordsmithing) has evolved into bringing mindfulness practices, and sometimes even poetry, to young people.  Their debut chapbook, Philosophers Know Nothing About Love, is out now with Thirty West (May 2022); their second, sweet euphemism, is forthcoming with CLASH!, an imprint of Mouthfeel Press, in Spring 2023. You can find out more at alisonlubar.com or on Twitter @theoriginalison.