The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Dan Memmolo
Rebounding
These days it gets dark so gradually, it seems pure dark will never descend. And now here he is, damn fool kid, home for a visit, jacking up threes like he’s never left. I chase down the rebounds with fervor and feed him passes that still carry some snap and bite. And I watch him as he elevates, elbow in, eyes on the rim, just like I told him all these years, the sun at last relenting, the neighborhood growing still, the sweet sound of the ball slipping through the net the only soundtrack to an evening so genuine, so fragile, so full of unforced heart. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |