A Tennis Lesson

A Tennis Lesson

It was a bit different then.
We had white tennis dresses
with matching knickers of course
frills covering the bottom.
The boys wore neat white shorts
shirts with buttons, white too.
And, of course, we wore our Dunlop Volleys
radiant white and clean beneath white ankle socks.
The balls were white too.

At our weekly tennis lesson
we behaved
followed protocol
were sportsmanly
and clapped politely the clever or difficult shots
made by our fellow students.

Imagine the surprise!
The coach says,
Righto love give us your best backhander.
Pause disbelief confusion.
He tosses the first ball,
Come on he says you know what to do.
At the second toss,
Come on love hit it.

At the third toss,
I planted my feet,
drew my racket arm back across my body
and fiercely sent the ball rocketing back at him
the ferocity of it finishing in the follow through
head titled back.
And I knew I'd done a good shot
before I heard the applause
because I saw the all hatred craziness
in your eyes
and I felt the neck snapping impact
and the hot sting of your hand's imprint
and the swollen burning of my face
and I remembered the life lesson
not to speak up for myself.

Judith Morgan