The Natural, Brooklyn, 1950
For Hal Wohl
He was so far beyond anything dreamed
in strength, speed, or skill
by our bodies for ourselves, I knew
he was designed for marvels.
He seemed beautiful. It would be years before
we connected that to girls.
We were unaware of them and still very pure.
No point playing ball
with him, since he won everything effortlessly
in the natural course, like nightfall
waiting sweetly, lightly, in the end-zone
after scoring a goal.
He was shy and seldom spoke, and I was wordy
but could not imagine him as dull.
I don't recall his face but I remember his thigh,
the shock of seeing it swell
with a man's strength under strain, no longer a boy's,
alien, beautiful, fearful.
Barry Goldensohn is the author of five books of poetry and a new collection of poems about music forthcoming this summer from Fomite Press.