Ashes Poetry

Gone
in sixty nano-seconds
aim in mind before ball leaves bat
all done in one, out by yards,
victim dives after stumps splay
no recourse to redundant replay
dust stunned in shiv sharp speed
of broken glass stilled while braking
rods and cones alchemically fixed,
frozen forever in our retinas
suspended for life in vitreous humour
locked in basal memory forever
Katich twocks Trott.

Taken without owner’s consent,
No fluke or accident,
The practiced genie of anticipation,
How good are these Australians?

I J L Trott runout (S M Katich) 41