Strike
William Fargason
strike while your fist is still in your pocket strike
while the iron is still an iron strike against
a lover’s brick wall each footstep through the forest
reminds you of every road you couldn’t be for them
strike while you still remember your neighbor’s soybean fields
you got lost in strike that child from your memory
who you once were strike while you still have a home
worth striking against strike that last line strike that whole
last page each syllable a cracked tooth in your smile
strike before the sweat falls before she gets home
before she zips up the suitcase says she’s moving back
to Tampa to sort through the years strike that weeks-old
shit from your head and when you strike really put
your head into it strike while you still have a voice box
worth punching for so many years you struck
against your own fists trying to find ways to strike
the heart out each punch into your chest made the sound
of a fist against a baseball mitt strike while you can
still see the exit as if you could get three strikes
and finally quit the years of hating not the body
you were striking against but the self inside the body
strike while there’s still a self left to strike against
and when you think you’re done strike again
William Fargason is the author of Love Song to the Demon-Possessed Pigs of Gadara (University of Iowa Press, 2020), and the winner of the Iowa Poetry Award. His poetry has appeared in The Threepenny Review, New England Review, Barrow Street, Prairie Schooner, Poetry Northwest, The Cincinnati Review, Narrative, and elsewhere. He earned an MFA in poetry from the University of Maryland and a PhD in poetry from Florida State University. He lives with himself in Tallahassee, Florida, where he serves as the poetry editor at Split Lip Magazine.