← v18n1, Spring 2019
Poetry · Volume 18, Number 1

Lost in Translation

Ghosts often find themselves lost in translation.

They take a turn, and it turns out to be the wrong turn.

They rush by one another and their shoulders graze

Each other’s. It’s amazing how they manage

Not to knock the other to the ground or floor

Or third base because they do like to play baseball.

What was the name of that movie? I forget.

And yet I’ve seen them pitch and bat, or steal

To third or stick stock-still wherever they’re at.