I thought of Galileo’s globe,
how he used it for inspiration
and the second his fingers touch
the Indian Ocean I let my shot go,
giving it the hip, Downtown Brown
arc, watching the ball’s slow rotation
make its way to the rim, bounce
and spin upward and fall through
the net hanging on by a few strands.
I shamelessly pump my fist
as I get back on defense and Galileo
waters his geraniums, which he did
whenever he felt he was closing
in on satisfaction, something big.