Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #194
The Ump Received
by Belinda Roddie
The ump received a wild pitch to the face
and fell into a crumpled, messy heap,
though the batter at first stole second base
and most of the crowd had fallen asleep.
The pitcher lowered his arm and looked down
upon the ump, who bled from his right eye
and mumbled gibberish like a drunk clown.
"Should we call 911?" the catcher cried.
The pitcher yanked at his mitt, bit his lip,
and suddenly broke into a fast sprint
off of the mound and just managed to slip
into the dug-out without a mere glint
of the team manager's eye. So the ump
simply lay there. Strike three to the old lump.
by Belinda Roddie
The ump received a wild pitch to the face
and fell into a crumpled, messy heap,
though the batter at first stole second base
and most of the crowd had fallen asleep.
The pitcher lowered his arm and looked down
upon the ump, who bled from his right eye
and mumbled gibberish like a drunk clown.
"Should we call 911?" the catcher cried.
The pitcher yanked at his mitt, bit his lip,
and suddenly broke into a fast sprint
off of the mound and just managed to slip
into the dug-out without a mere glint
of the team manager's eye. So the ump
simply lay there. Strike three to the old lump.
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