Runts
So there we sit, the runts, the overweights, my Jewish friends
who, like me, are more academic than athletic,
when the don’t-give-a-shits, late to PE and with no kit,
are made to join us in the stands,
sidle up next to us, taunt us for being small or fat,
having a nasal voice or braces or greasy hair.
If we ganged together—there’s only two of them—
we could put a stop to this. Maybe.
We stare at our sneakers or out onto the courts
where faster, bigger boys shoot hoops and run drills
—a graceful, interweaving, intangible current
like ones I’ve studied but they know intuitively.
They play shirts versus skins, sweat glistening
on bare chests just emerging out of Roman marble.
How many afternoons have they spent handling a ball
or barbell, their magnetizing biceps coiling
and then releasing, coiling and releasing?
Did they come this way, or were they steered?
I’ve rarely visited my mother’s boyfriend’s gym.
Maybe I’ve had it all wrong, like being too lazy
to mow the lawn or clean my room,
or genetic programming has failed to kick in.
Coach substitutes the runts into the game
so that we get a chance to dribble, pass, shoot, rebound . . .
I try blocking a skin, hands all in his face, like a fan
after an autograph, but the ball escapes between my legs.
I attempt a layup, rehearse how many steps,
where my arms and the ball should be when I shoot,
but can’t remember the follow-through
and freeze beneath the net, one leg in the air,
as if immortalized scoring the winning basket,
as if someone has shut off the electricity.
Charles G Lauder Jr is an American poet who has lived in the UK since 2000. He’s published two pamphlets and a debut collection, The Aesthetics of Breath (V.Press, 2019). His website can be found at https://www.charleslauderjr.