“Swing batter! Swing batter!”
Uncle history in a funeral home
“You’re sub-Lazarus” he says
To the corpse
He doesn’t know anything
About bodies—
Treats them as numbers
He prefers hot soup
To philosophy
Prefers philosophy
To science
Prefers almost anything
To empathy
But he likes that man
At the plate
Waving a bat
Squinting into the sun
Its a journey through familiar speech
Towards the region that is no place
He really does like sports
Planet of the Blind 