Summer he was 9going on 10, suddenlyhe had one:chin tuckedinto the leading shoulder,the body at once lifted highand crouched;something in the thighswas attachedto the groundyet there was an upwarddetermination in the elbow—a boy could be pulledskyward and earthward at once,could be, like the bat,expectant, not quite still,quivering with intentto circle and strike a note;his hands fused to the woodand wrists braced as thoughscrewing tight or about tounscrew the lid of a jar(love in the wristswas part of the stance)and when the swing brokeand the ball whistled longand everyone was moving, calling—the throw’s to second—I wanted to study the stance againin that suspended lifebefore a play happens,before memory carried it away.This poem appears in the September 2026 print edition.