*NOTE: This is the next poem that we will be studying. READ IT NOW!!!
SLAM, DUNK, HOOK
Fast breaks. Lay ups. With Mercury's
insignia on our sneakers,
we outmaneuvered the footwork
of bad angels. Nothing but a hot
swish of strings like silk
ten feet out. In the roundhouse
labyrinth our bodies
created, we could almost
last forever, poised in midair
like storybook sea monsters.
A high note hung there
a long second. Off
the rim. We'd corkscrew
up and dunk balls that exploded
the skullcap of hope and good
intention. Bug-eyed, lanky,
all hands and feet . . . sprung rhythm.
We were metaphysical when girls
cheered on the sidelines.
Tangled up in a falling,
muscles were a bright motor
double-flashing to the metal hoop
nailed to our oak.
When Sonny Boy's mama died
he played nonstop all day, so hard
our backboard splintered.
Glistening with sweat, we jibed
and rolled the ball off our
fingertips. Trouble
was there slapping a blackjack
against an open palm.
Dribble, drive to the inside, feint,
and glide like a sparrow hawk.
Lay ups. Fast breaks.
We had moves we didn't know
we had. Our bodies spun
on swivels of bone and faith,
through a lyric slipknot
of joy, and we knew we were
beautiful and dangerous.
-Yusef Komunyakaa
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