Free Throw


He poises himself on the brink
of the black boundary
that blocks him from stepping
any closer.
Holding the orange ember
in his damp palms, he slowly lets it
to the floor
and bounce
back into his grip.
The stares of spectators sear
through his tightened muscles as he releases
the spark into the humid air.
For a moment, his eyes fall shut
as his heart tumbles
into his stomach and his throat lurches
with tension.
He prays as it arcs across the lane
that it will turn fireball
and burn through the net.
Then, he hears the ricochet
of the leather flame
as it hits the rim
and teeters on the edge,
along with him.

I changed my Two Sentence Story up a bit and transformed it into a poem.


13 thoughts on “Free Throw

  1. Everyday I go to the YMCA early, before anyone shows up at the basketball court. My little routine is to shoot 10 free throws in a row. I have to make 10 in a row. If I get to 9 and miss the tenth I have to start over. There are no spectators, just me, which is more than enough. Great poem. Nice.

    Liked by 1 person

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