Basketball On Tv - Poem by Ananta Madhavan
Players may not touch each other: no body contact.
Basketball must be the chastest of games.
They dart and weave;
The big ball bounces off the white-chalked floor
In sure percussion,
The teams comb each other,
The ball is tossed from catch to catch;
Tap, tap, bounce and pass
In abstract patterns.
Try the bottomless basket,
The ball slithers through,
No contact with the rim.
Points gained. No fuss,
No exulting, no kissing,
Just a brisk darting off again.
Dart, dart, bounce and weave.
Now the other basket calls,
Receiving what it first rejects,
Accepts without holding.
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