The point of release

by Emma Danes

requires years of practice. My boy,
old enough now to develop
a consistent run up, ball half
polished half scuffed, fingers each side
of the seam. I could learn about
rhythm, balance – his arms coiled, eyes
on the wicket, full drive through then
ease, that gentle angling away.
For now, he returns to me
taller, famished, his hands stained red.