Wysi·Wyg Volume I, Issue 3

The Routine
by Emily G.

The score’s tied,
With only two seconds left.
He steps up to the foul line,
Still shaking off the pain from that push.
The ref tosses him the ball,
And the crowd starts to scream.

He bends his knees,
And bounces twice,
Then lets it go…

BOINK!
The ball hits the rim and comes right back to him.
One more shot…
He thinks to himself.

And he looks around,
At his fellow students and friends,
Bodies painted and hair dyed,
At his parents and sister,
Who came home from college to see him play.

He smiles,
And turns back to the net,
He closes his eyes,
And drowns out the screaming crowd.

Again he bends his knees,
And again he bounces twice.
As the ball sails toward the hoop,
He cannot watch.

The Routine by Emily G. The score’s tied, With only two seconds left. He steps up to the foul line, Still shaking off the pain from that push. The ref tosses him the ball, And the crowd starts to scream. He bends his knees, And bounces twice, Then lets it go… BOINK! The ball hits the rim and comes right back to him. One more shot… He thinks to himself. And he looks around, At his fellow students and friends, Bodies painted and hair dyed, At his parents and sister, Who came home from college to see him play. He smiles, And turns back to the net, He closes his eyes, And drowns out the screaming crowd. Again he bends his knees, And again he bounces twice. As the ball sails toward the hoop, He cannot watch.