Faith
Michael Chin
I.
They called it the dry summer.
Seven weeks, no rain.
Momma said it was too hot
to play ball.
Said I’d catch fire
right there on the court--
eighty, ninety degree heat.
Said I’d catch fire
and burn down to nothing.
I said scatter my ashes
along the baseline.
Nothing else to do anyway.
Wanted to hit the road
see the Chesapeake Bay
that summer.
But who had the dollars
for a trip like that?
Nowhere to go but the court.
Lily was out there
drawing, writing.
Multicolor chalk on the blacktop court.
Called it her art.
We told her to look out
and to keep off the court
while we were playing.
She’d wait till we were we were on the other end
then go on with her business
moving on and off with the pace of the game.
Peter came and got her
mid-afternoon.
Didn’t like his sister around us
‘cause we didn’t like him around.
Sure to have the cross
shining in the sun.
Kid never could make up lay-up anyway.
Never could keep up
going full court.
Game went on
I put a little something on it
behind the back to Sammy
to give ‘em a proper send-off.
Was glad Sammy came.
Skipped out on the game a lot that summer.
Thought it was just the heat at first,
then he cracked.
His grandma was back in the hospital.
Grew up with the woman
then spent half his life losing her.
Looked like the dry summer
might be it.
II.
We called it the dry summer.
Seven weeks, no rain.
Momma said it was too hot
to play ball.
Said I was gonna melt
right there on the court--
ninety, hundred degree heat.
Said I was gonna melt
end up a puddle on the ground.
I said let the weak melt
and I’ll drink ‘em up like Gatorade.
Pops said not to talk nonsense
then turned back to his morning paper.
Got to the court early.
Wound up on one end
Lily scribbling away
at the other.
Took a look at what she wrote--
said roses were crimson
through her window pane
but the grass had gone brown
without any rain.
Informed me it was her poetry--
another part of her art.
Girl's pictures and poems
Covered near a third of the court by then.
I said sometime soon
The rain was gonna wash all those colors away.
Lily said if the rain was gonna fall
she’d might as well have something out there
for that water to clean off.
Vertical showed up that day.
Hadn’t been to the courts much
Since his sister passed away.
We didn’t talk about that, though--
not out there on the court.
That’s where we went to forget all that.
To bury it
deeper with every J.
We called him Vertical
‘cause he could get it over anyone on the court.
Nobody blocked his shot.
Vertical didn’t come just to ball, though.
We were shooting for teams
when he took Sammy aside.
Talked about losing people.
Was saying most people couldn’t know
how it felt.
None of us could.
Had to experience it.
Told Sammy he was there to listen.
Wanted to push Vertical aside
tell him that was bull.
Son of a bitch thought he knew something--
like I didn’t lose my father.
Wanted to fill him in
there’s more than one way to lose somebody.
About a year back
‘nother summer
‘nother place.
Week before
Elise left for Maryland.
Wasn’t like we planned it,
even if Pops said he saw it coming.
Vertical can dunk now
But he doesn’t do it often.
Says he doesn’t want to show off.
I say he can’t throw it down
Over my D.
Sammy leaves the game early.
Always did those days
when he came at all.
Vertical walked him off the court.
Looked like Peter
Leading his little sister away.
Rest of us let him go.
III.
It was the dry summer.
Seven weeks, no rain.
We’d laid off the court here and there.
Took a day for the old woman’s funeral.
Stood by Sammy’s side.
Didn’t seem right to play
the next day
and ninety degree heat
didn’t help.
I spent those days
at Cerebral’s place or Big D’s--
anywhere but home.
Pops had been at the services
looked at me
like I didn’t belong there.
Hadn’t been there in so long
even before Elise left.
Pops didn’t say a thing.
Neither did I.
When we got back to the court
It was full.
Funny, ‘cause Lily had most of it covered
last time I’d seen it.
But it was complete.
Seven weeks and every inch
Was poetry and pictures.
Stopped and stood a minute
didn’t want to stomp on it
smear it with my sneakers.
Big D fired the ball up
from the sidelines, though.
Caromed off the rim,
then Ray ran out
picked up the loose ball
and it was on.
Hadn’t played fifteen minutes
when we heard the rumbling.
Looked up and around--
dark clouds.
They were coming up on us
from every side.
Something about the wind changed
some leaves, flying out onto the court.
Laid the ball in
Of the backboard
and that’s when I felt it.
The rain was falling
From the gray sky.
We stopped—standing and staring.
The sky opened up
and we were drenched,
running for cover.
Thunder,
white streaks in the sky.
Remember a storm last summer.
Elise led the way up the stairs
dripping wet
splashing mud
on the white carpet in her room.
Kissed her neck
Teeth tangled in the chain of her crucifix.
Rain beating against the window
We sweat
chests beating together
squeezing rhythm from bed springs,
harmonizing moans.
Couldn’t have known
what to expect
but still surprised
with every jerk.
Sorrow, ‘cause that’s all it was.
Pride of achievement.
Moments of ecstasy,
fear of what’d come next.
She asked if I was all right.
And I thought about my father.
The guys all ran for home
scattered around the neighborhood.
Peter led Lily off.
Always the responsible one
taking care of things like that.
We lost power.
Nothing to watch but the lightning
against the clouds.
Pops called it God’s work.
Momma told me to stay clear of that window.
But soon enough
we all stood and stared.
Rain went to drizzle
back to dry the next afternoon.
Momma said she’d never seen
a storm like that.
Went down by the courtside
and all Lily’s chalk
was gone from the blacktop.
Big D was already there.
Cerebral showed up after
Then Sammy and Vertical.
Waited to play, though
standing and staring again.
‘Cause there, where the clouds were parting,
where the sun was glowing,
where the blue returned--
that’s where we saw the rainbow.
Modern day covenant
floating in the sky.
Something like that.
Thought maybe Lily’s colors
had flown on up there.
But that wasn’t right.
That wasn’t right because Lily’s work
had stayed right there on the court--
poetry in every motion
every crossover a strophe
every lay up a stanza.
The rain hadn’t washed the art away--
it planted it there
made it part of the game.
Slipping and splashing
top speed up court,
the game went on.