surely this is a fevered imagining
(in 1966 charlton heston did come to new zealand and play tennis)
i am on my way to the central library
on a thin, faraway, long white cloud
so many people in my way on mercer street
a throng
they are all jazzed up and baying
about a tennis match
i am after the books
i push on through
come up against a most unusual creature
a man who is as tall as a tree
in tennis whites
a slazenger in hand
golden hairs upon his legs
a glow of rude health
such planes to his jaw
such luminous teeth
such an unusual colour to his skin
is this what they call a tan?
although he is the very centre
of this circus
he looks lost
he is making
desultory strokes
with his wooden racket
i glance up at him
it is a long way up
he glances down
at the little miss that i am
it was as if he said
—what is going on?
it was as if i said
—you tell me
i gave him the freeze
and side-stepped him
Jennifer Compton was born in Wellington, New Zealand, and now lives in Melbourne, Australia. Her 11th book of poetry - 'the moment, taken' was published by Recent Work Press. 'Still' is forthcoming.
