Drive

            the ball comes down court

            hands ready.

Pick sets.

            flash around, shoulder to shoulder

Post up.

            ball pops the hand

            to the net.

Drive!

            new opponent takes the court,

            smug cancer.

Pick sets.

            team rallies, shoulder to shoulder,

Post up.

            Compo, head up high,

            undefeated.

Drive.

            athletes across the conference

            wear pink.

Pick sets.

            all the Jack Pine, shoulder to shoulder,

Post up

            a number 32

            with love.

Drive.

Tough Chick

My muscles are pool noodles.

    My ankle is swollen.

I have bruises and a floor burn.

    But I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.

The ball was alien.

    My hands were dead fish.

My head unclear with trash talk.

    But I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.

Like in movies and in history,

    Like in this game and the others,

There are women who stood tall and said,

    I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.

So I will shake it off,

    And I will face all doubts.

My ankle is taped.

    Time to suck it up and go.

Pass me the ball and be ready!

    I will play on;

        I am a tough chick.


For Grace

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.

Ball!

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…

Set It Up

SET

Commands coach

As the guard crosses mid-court,

Arm raised, two fingers out.

Two, he yells, running the offense.

Forward cuts to the high post.

Center drops down the paint.

The ball passes left,

Reverse, swing it round.

Shuffle, step, pick is set.

Turn, bounce pass…..

IT,

However, had started on day one

When coach called all to the base line,

Running passing drills, lay-ups,

Conditioning with sprints.

Then it became the go to play,

The bread and butter routine,

Going for the bucket.

Only here, it varies with

Three on the clock, down by one.

UP

Goes the ball,

From the fingertips with patience

To the hoop with urgency;

A title on the line.

A touch on the glass,

Held breath, roll on the rim,

A cheer from the crowd.

Completes the play that took a season.