Did you hear me, she repeated during

            the final game, no one listening till

                        she climbed to the roof and jumped. Now I dream


about the mother who gave up, moved on,

            checked out, taking charge of the tournament,

                        making sure all went home losers, even


those with court advantage. What did winning

            matter, competition trumped, all those months,

                        years. I cannot recall her face nor clothes,


for what I read later: she taught something,

            recently laid off because of the down

                        turn, her specialized training not needed.


She took a bus while I drove alone, not

            realizing for her all was either

                        sky or pavement, with nothing in between.


Photo:Fallen” by lil’_wiz