In a game
Where you want to see
A giraffe climb or an elephant push
You have the giants of the game
With even bigger hearts
Making the climb to where
Everything is found in
A basket, that one dunk
Or one free throw or one hook shot
Becomes a hamper

And the word hamper
Has different meanings……
For everyone else, it is a basket,
With food for a picnic
But for the black man on the street,
It means the laundry clothes

It is the basket of dreams he carries
To a laundry for a wash
To hurdle past the hold of color
For renewal

And it only takes a basket to make inroads
To a colorblind world
Of how a jersey with a number
Makes melanin less visible
For a black man to drive down
Glory road, dribbling a large amber ball.

And the man from Akron
Was once a street-kid who emptied
His basket at a nearby laundry. When the stripes
Became stars. Ghettos grew luster.

And the kid grew royal blood
Laying up flyovers to his dream.


Published by

meandererworld (Dilantha Gunawardana)

Dr Dilantha Gunawardana is a molecular biologist, who graduated from the University of Melbourne. He moonlights as a poet. Dilantha wrote his first poem at the ripe age of 32 and now has more than 1700 poems on his blog. His poems have been accepted/published in Forage, Kitaab, Eastlit, American Journal of Poetry and Ravens Perch, among others. He was also awarded the prize for "The emerging writer of the year - 2016" in the Godage National Literary Awards, Sri Lanka for his first collection of poems (Kite Dreams – A Sarasavi Publication), while being shortlisted for the poetry prize. Dilantha is a dual citizen of Sri Lanka and Australia, and shares his experiences from two different cultures. He blogs at - https://meandererworld.

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