The Tennis Shelter

by Jennifer Phizacklea



We play tennis outdoors,

lightning flaring on the horizon,

air thick with humidity

and the scent of distant rain.

Under the floodlights wash

diving moths swoop, flutter

and fall, dying, to the ground.

Beneath the tennis shelter,

its white metal gleaming,

a rain moth shelters.

Two bright blue eyes

on delicate brown wings

in the darkness.



Drunk with the headiness

of these stolen moments,

you curse my hair flying loose,

long and twining;

while the thunder roars

around the tennis shelter,

chastising us like children.

When the storm eases

we walk away;

You don’t know I glance back

and see your face, unguarded -

as I’ll always remember it.

Jenn Phizacklea is a Western Australian writer of poetry and prose, who has an Arts Degree in Creative Writing. Jenn has been a writer for around fifteen years and self-publishes her work online. Jenn draws her inspiration from nature and landscape.

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August 2018

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