A Basketball Left Outside for the Winter
Your form looks seasoned
from the endline.
Your streaks faded
where winter has fouled you,
squeezed and stretched your leather,
tugged at your jersey
while the rest of us
spent halftime behind a closed garage.
Benched, you inhaled and held for a season,
retired by the base of the hoop.
You wheeze a sluggish breath,
air leaving you in whistles.
Neglectful months
have rendered you unfit.
Can you lift from the sideline?
Train the draft from your core?
Polish court grime from the
creases of your rubber,
repaint your patterns
and roll into hands worthy of traveling?
Sneakers squeak near you,
toe the boundary line—
an afternoon dribble before
it gets too hot to play
with shoes on.
See, the way your shadow
stretches across the court,
taut, perfectly whole.