Sister Sirens

Monday Night LUST: “Basketball Coach” by Terry Godbey

terry basketball











How I envy his
cropped wash-and-wear
hair he can shake
dry like a dog, his easy
uniform of T-shirt and baggy
shorts. Each morning,
10 minutes max and he’s ready
for his work of play. Hustle,
he orders his small charges,
hustle, and he shows how
to break away, pivot, slip out
of the thicket of boys,
a knot coming untied.
He leaps, carved calves,
feet on fire,
sinking the orange sun,
again, again, again,
each release from his long
fingers a kind of bliss,
urging the ball to kiss the glass,
hands-in-the-cookie-jar pose
after each shot, every muscle
tense, each movement sprung
from instinct, the throb-throb-throb
of the ball, its crazy orbits,
the arc, the swish,
the net swinging
like a woman’s skirt.

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