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Poem

Don't move the goalposts.
Leave them as they are.

Well, maybe this much wider.
Now you've gone too far.

In a bit more. Stop.
OK, that'll do.

BOOKED
Poem

on the pitch, lightning faSt,

dribble, fake, then make a dash

 

player tries tO steal the ball 

lift and step and make him fall

 

Poem

It was perfect

the timing

like stars aligning or 

looking up from your boo when the class is silent

just as she does

so perfect you can feel it in your spine

Give The Ball to the Poet
Poem

When they were young,
She kept wicket for her brothers,
They batted,
Bowled,
Padded up
And ratcheted up the score.
She crouched behind the stumps

Poem

He's the Keepy-Uppy Kid.

Poem

The game is on

at the park.

The stars are out.

It’s close to dark.

Hoop Kings

SOARing

in the SKY

so high

so fly

like they Got Wings

BOOKED
Poem

    Coach says

we must win

our final game

to advance

to the next round

of the tournament

 

We say, No problem.

 

BOOKED
Poem

   is like

never hitting pause

on your favorite ninety-minute movie

but futsal is like 

fast forward

for forty

supercharged minutes.

 

Game one

BOOKED
Poem

    The girls

let down

their ponytails

high-five

their coach,

then walk over

to shake

our sweaty palms

after beating us 

five to three.

BOOKED
Poem

     The Mac

is a corny-joke-cracking

seven foot

bowling fanatic

with reddish Mohawk

who wears funny T-shirts

and high top Converse sneakers.

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