Basketball game
I fell, tore my hand on the way to the game at the school,
My now bloody hand that I wrapped with concession stand napkins.
We entered the arena where everyone watched as the boys,
They ran down the court with a ball that darted between them.
And the wall to wall crowd swayed in place and it moaned with each ball tap
And mishap, the object of putting it into the hole.
That hole in the hard orange circle that is like a charm
And the ball that they held like the body of Christ in their fingers
Then lifted it into a great graceful arc so it entered
The hole and was caught oh so gently by ropes that were white
And the arena would thunder with a rapturous call to the team.
My hand, it still bleeds like our saviors stigmata in a room
Full of rabble that cheer most profane in a temple of scorn
‘Til a boy lifts the ball to the sky, and it’s stuffed in the circle.
The hall thunders more ’til we leave for our cars in a bunch
Moving slow. Now the service is done and maybe we won.
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