The Small-Town Voice of God
Listen to Michael Chitwood reading this poem.
Band boosters man the cocoa cups.
There's a handful of steam for anyone
with a quarter, whipped cream
for another nickel. A moment
of silence, blank to fill in,
or not, the rehearsed separation
of brass and woodwinds
at the fifty. Friday night stalls.
We believe we will win
and the scoreboard exclaims
O, O. It's a coin toss,
heads butting tails in the dirt.
Everyone's here, so that beyond
the banks of lights no one
hears the cheers go up.
Michael Chitwood published two collections of poems in 2007,From WhenceandSpill. He teaches at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Clickhere to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.To submit poetry to Slate, send up to five poems and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Robert Pinsky, Slate Magazine, Boston University, 236 Bay State Road, Boston, MA, 02215.