Today's poem is by Alfred Corn
Here in Subatomic Stadium, playoff season's
already got some bounce. The Particles know to maintain
as team players even when they go chest to chest,
an approach they'll use soon as the Waves heat up.
First off the Waves will feature Photon, whose midrange
shootings stellar. Link that to his skill with need
baskets and a habit of making off-balance shots that still
can the ball. plus special pull-up bombs he explodes
from way outside the arc, and then you understand where
his triple-double star came from. Kick-start Coach Ellis
has devised a foolproof MO for his key player,
bur then we expect that from a wizard who won his trophies
for cooking up a Theory of Everything, an alchemy
that transforms even the second string into platinum.
Right, but the Pare have more and more been casting
Quark as their Shining Prince. During last night's clash
fan excitement pinnacled in the third quarter, when opposition
swarmed around Hadron in an effort to shut him down,
but, too late. whoa. Big Spidey was airborne, levitating
over the world's toughest repo man, whereupon he
double-clutched to launch a five-star floater high enough
to strike awe into the heart of the backboard
before his gloating projectile plummeted home.
You noticed how the Waves kept flying crisscross
patterns during the Parts' lull-court attack, closing out
on three-point shooters or collapsing inside to smother
volleys that otherwise would have zinged their way
into the swaying strings like kamikaze butterflies.
In the fourth quarter Higgs Boson opened up, breaking
down defenders off the dribble, helpless to squelch a grin
when he rocketed to the rim and eternized his moment.
And more to come: his six-four frame flings back into the fray
to choreograph a crash course in tracking skills, darting,
feinting, spinning for a matched set of pull-up jumpers,
a virtuoso manifesto that rocks the crowd volcanic.
A nanosecond ticks and pumped avengers muster
on either side of the foul line to run pick-and-rolls
out of Meson's horn stack series. We've learned to expect
crazed confusion whereby players seem to change sides,
moments, say, when a point guard gets shot-happy, not helping
the top gun get enough access. Or like last night: suddenly
Neutrino breaks the sound barrier driving and kicking up
to the long-range shooter zone, then, zippo, seems to vanish
into some fifth dimension away from the court.
Copyright © 2014 Alfred Corn All rights reserved
Barrow Street Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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