Lou Gehrig’s Prayers
The poems my father wrote
have been inside his ALS prayers
all these years, inside his heart,
under his tongue, in bulbar zones,
inside what fails him now.
These poems grow sharp, crisp
line by line, taut as he types on a screen
or writes on a marker board,
fingers and mind also agile for a joke.
These last glimmers remind us of the boy,
born last year of Lou Gerhig’s all-star days
and who loved sandlot ball with his brother
or showing us how it was done,
all boy, all his years, serious at play.
What cannot stop his tongue-tied heart
and soul glistens behind his eyes today,
where he makes his last poems, half and full
stops of prayer, some lines we can read
and others lie enjambed in his eyes
Lou Gerhig’s PrayersThe poems my father wrotehave been inside his ALS prayersall these years, inside his heart,under his tongue, in bulbar zones,inside what fails him now.These poems grow sharp, crispline by line, taut as he types on a screenor writes on a marker board,fingers and mind also agile for a joke.These last glimmers remind us of the boy,born last year of Lou Gerhig’s all-star daysand who loved sandlot ball with his brotheror showing us how it was done,all boy, all his years, serious at play.What cannot stop his tongue-tied heartand soul glistens behind his eyes today,where he makes his last poems, half and fullstops of prayer, some lines we can readand others lie enjambed in his eyes
Scott LaMascus is a writer, producer, and public-humanities advocate who lives in Oklahoma with his wife, an executive physician. His recent work may be read in Bracken, Epiphany, The Writer’s Chronicle, and World Literature Today.