Thursday, November 22, 2012

In the Game

Stop the ball.
Hands high, shoulders low
Eyes focused like a huntress.
She defends the court.
Shuffle and run; run and shuffle
Denial is her purpose.

Hungry, a split second to swipe
She pounces on a lose ball.
Banging against her opponent
Bone slamming wood
Skin scorching the wax.

Dish it off.
Pass to the guard
Her knee is bruised,
Burning from the slide.
Sweat trickles at her temple.
Strands of hair dance as she moves.

Pop a pass.
Swing it right and cut.
Reverse the ball back around.
Weave through and set the pick.
Zap, the ball slams her hands
Drive the lane, quick and sure.

Delicate of the glass.
Step high and power up.
Soar above the hands.
She rolls her wrist with grace.
A gentle kiss in the square.
Her eyes shine then flicker.

Stop the ball…