I Traded My Baseball Mitt, For You? ... Poem by James McLain

It was an uneven trade
my baseball mitt
for her
what do I do with her
I saved the balls
she told me to
during the trade
unaccustomed to the quaintness
of her
I reach for her
she
goes to the rings in the wall
taking my towels out
she directs me to tighten
the collars
I comply bewildered
she
looks at me as if
I could do that which she is thinking
I comply
she then instructs me to do
what you
her previous owners did
again I comply
her last request before she
died
was to be placed in your bed
so she would never miss another base ball game
while you died
watching her as she
watched you.