Turf (an acrostic poem)

The ball tumbled to the ground, forgotten for the moment

Under the garish yellow streetlights the batter still took a swing

Ravaging the Demon’s knife man’s rib cage with a sickening thud

Finally the contest was called on the account of sirens

 

Image: turn2outs.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/Baseball-Bat.jpg

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