TEAM FLAME, a Hermit Crab Essay in a baseball lineup card

A Hermit Crab Essay, Nine At-Bats in a Lineup Card

LEADOFF BATTER

Number 11, Left Fielder, WINDBURN

(Coaches note: makes contact . . . always)

A bush bursting into flame? No. But I’ve seen lesser scorchings: a grass fire, my hair torched by candles on a birthday cake, the burning asphalt of Phoenix highways riding my motorcycle; the hot breath of July crossing deserts with the sting of air against my skin at eighty miles per hour.

The prophets received pillars of fire; Moses the eternal flame. I only get UV warnings and dehydration. But revelation always begins in these emptying’s and abrasions, so voided and cut, I’ll aim for the pitch when it comes in hot and burning. That’s what team flame does, we’re nine batters chasing heat.

Settling into my dharma, I accept sunburn, UV exposure, windburn, and have learned to handle the flaming fire and hot fast ball in hopes that one stunning pitch will morph into a burning bush.

Tomorrow, batting second, number 4, Shortstop, Asphalt.

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^{Burning excerpts from Stories Emerge Like Bears, a Cornerstone Press forthcoming lyric memoir in 2028 exploring wilderness, memory, labor, rhythm, motorcycles, drumming, fire, and the sacred atmospheres and languages of place.}