Ode to Softball
Hair slung back in a single braid, lassoed
with a bandana, knotted at the top
like Rosie the Riveter balancing bats
on shoulders displaying girl guns
The signature-look dotted with dirt:
brown dust, red clay
Black pants, gray pants, white pants—
those were the kicker
I didn’t just play in the diamond
I rolled in it, slid in it like trying on velvet
bottoms I didn’t want to return
Where dust kissed grass, I dabbed green
as an accent to my dried bloody knees
I refused to leave my playground without
dirt makeup plastered like an orange tan
Forget cheap medals, I threw trophies away
I flaunt my holey uniform instead
They said, Leave it all on the field
So, I did with no regrets
No matter how much bleach
Or stain remover
My mama used on those pants.
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