Karen Dowell Nautical Natural I found a bat on arrowhead beach today. A Genuine R43 Cupped Balance Louisville Slugger, wrapped in seaweed like a gift. It's hard to tell how long this bat's been lost-- the taped handle frayed by ballplayers or hungry fish. But its season sea-bound has warped electric streaks of oceanic lightning into the wood. Does it has the same power as Wonderboy? The superstitious oomph to propel some fisherman's son into the same league as Roy Hobbs. A nautical natural. I hold it waiting for the spark to ignite me. But the dogs want to play catch, Run home on this sanded island diamond....So I hit one urchin shell, watch it shatter in the breeze (knocked the cover off that ball!), and toss the bat back to sea. Day's Last Light On this June-scented evening herring are schooling afterhours, worrying silver wrinkles in still twilight waters dotted with floats and a solitary skiff, backlit white-- moored by the artist who framed this moment. The moon waits like a dog, smiling through spruce tips, as the sun dips into low tide. Mud flats flare, sizzle and fade in the day's last light.

Karen Dowell lives in Maine with her husband and their labrador retriever sons. After 15 years in the computer industry in technical and marketing communications, Karen switched careers to focus on writing and publishing fiction and poetry. She was recently accepted into the Bennington College MFA program. Karen’s work has appeared in several print and online journals, including Recursive Angel, 2River View, Eclectica, Potato Eyes, and Stolen Island Review. Her poetry is also featured in Athens Avenue Poetry Circle anthology, A Year on the Avenue, published by Two Dog Press. Karen's first collection of dog poetry will be published in 1998.