With two 60's stuck on the scoreboard
And two seconds hanging on the clock,
The solemn boy in the center of eyes.
Squeezed by silence,
Seeks out the line with his feet.
Soothes his hands along his uniform.
Gently drums the ball against the floor.
Then measures the waiting net.
Raises the ball on his right hand.
Balances it with his left,
Calms it with fingertips.
Breathes,
Crouches.
Waits,
And then through a stretching of stillness,
Nudges it upward.
The ball
Slides up and out.
Lands,
Leans,
Wobbles,
Wavers.
Hesitates,
Exasperates.
Plays it coy
Until every face begs with unsounding screams-
And then
And then
And then.
Right before ROAR-UP,
Dives down and through.
Reason for writing:
This is a poem by Edwin Hoey that was given to me by my basketball
coach last year (LC). Being an excellent foul shooter myself
I can really appreciate it.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Cory Bogner {Pisces}.