BEYOND THE BALLPARK ON OLD RIVER ROAD

just down the street,
beyond the ballpark on Old River Road -
Chinatown roared like a dragon.
legends say -
pain so real, even fingernails hurt.
i did not ask for admission.

i have heard the prayer of owl
over these unsacred grounds,
as they sought offerings
for a God of blood.

they do not bury the dead here.
this is where the river rusted
against the sky & soil.
when the cops do arrive the morning after
the bones have forgotten their names.

opium bottles under the front seat
of cars that had no reason to run -
but did. my father never took me there
to learn the meaning of life:
just as far as the old ball park, with holes
in the foul screen,

where catchers with weak arms
hoped no one ran on them
& managers roared as angry dragons,
trying to get someone to just pull the ball,
wondering what a true power hitter
would mean in the standings.

Kenn Mitchell
©Dec 98