I wrote this a year or so ago. Henry Aaron was a giant in sports, not just for his home runs but because of how he carried himself.
KING HENRY
The chase was on, the racists
were out, and Bad Henry answered.
Tied the Babe in Cincy, six years
to the day when King was killed, a day
after thousands marched in Boston
against busing with signs that said
We won’t go to school with negroes,
and other words that ripped flesh
like mongrel teeth. King Henry.
Hit one big fly and then another.
Death threats. Retire or die.
Game four at home in the city
where King was buried. I’d like
to kill you, bang bang your dead.
Spelled just like that. Fourth inning,
takes Downing deep. Some screamed
conspiracy. My gun is watching
your every black move. Lifts a fastball
that catches too much plate. A swing
that cracked wise, a ball that arced high
and deep beyond the left field wall.