Volleyball

You Memorized the way your fingers molded together In front of you Every time you could feel the ball coming Knew it is coming to you Before it ever Left the server’s hands.

You Knew the heavy stuffiness of the gym As sweat drowned you Because of the hustles and rapid pulses Not of your heart But of every vein of your body, Pulsing in childish anticipation For each set, Each spike, Each movement, Each whistle.

You Felt the ball coming at you Over her head in front of you Though she raised her hand to stop it It continued on to you Because it was yours Not hers And it squared on your molded fingers Lifted Over the net Because it was yours

And you like the stuffiness of the gym And the way the fingers mold together Like they were fused that way from birth And the next ball is Yours.