Published on Academy of American Poets (

Loud Outs

 No one lofts a loud out
             to the left field 

fencing with its ads
             for Meacham’s Auto

and McClintock Paints.
             There’s no bravado

at the plate at all.
             No southpaw deals

his slider for a strike
             no one appeals,

since no one lent
             the anthem her vibrato.

This afternoon the high,
             off-tune legato

in the stands was only
             wind on steel.

But even though the team’s
             due back in town

tomorrow evening,
             though a storm is spinning

this way now, and though
             the world’s beginning

to dissolve in dust purled
             off the mound,

a patience rallies
             as the dark spills down

another rapture
             into extra innings.


Copyright © 2018 George David Clark. Used with permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in The Southern Review, Summer 2018.


George David Clark

George David Clark is the author of Reveille (University of Arkansas Press, 2015), winner of the Miller Williams Poetry Prize. He edits 32 Poems and lives in Washington, Pennsylvania.

Date Published: 2018-07-01

Source URL: