Poetry / Sandra Marchetti

:: Late October ::

It’s the first night of the World Series 
and ten jets, like stars, home
toward O’Hare. Runways roll
out the plains in draped carpet. 
Even though little league is over,
each ballfield lit up as if
by candles at the dinner table,
welcoming someone’s return.

From the writer

:: Account ::

I’ve writ­ten a cou­ple poems describ­ing how when land­ing in Chica­go I notice all the base­ball dia­monds. There seem to be more than in oth­er areas of the coun­try (per­haps because of the flat­ness?). I was tak­ing off from O’Hare in Octo­ber on the night of the first game of the World Series, two months after ama­teur base­ball is over, and a bunch of lit­tle league and park dis­trict fields were eeri­ly lit—as if they knew it was a big night for the game.

San­dra Mar­che­t­ti is the author of Con­flu­ence, a full-length col­lec­tion of poet­ry from Sun­dress Pub­li­ca­tions (2015), and four chap­books of poet­ry and lyric essays. Her poet­ry appears in Eco­tone, Poet Lore, Black­bird, Sug­ar House Review, Riv­er Styx, and else­where. Essays can be found in The Rum­pus, Mid-Amer­i­can Review, Bar­rel­house, Pleiades, and oth­er venues.