That Tennis Ball (poem)

I wish I could inhabit a moment

so completely

as my dog does when he sees

that tennis ball.

The sudden freeze. Focus. Eyes locked. Perpetually-wagging tale –

paralysed with purpose.

A prey drive entranced,

and when I reach for the ball, his gaze follows my hand

all

the

way

down.

Fingers brush yellow, drool-crusted fuzz. A light grip. His eyes rise and his lithe body stains with a desperate need for movement.

He waits

and waits

His every instinct: completely and utterly focused on

that tennis ball

and when the ball leaves my hand the tension in his bones shatters.

I wish I could inhabit a moment so completely

that I didn’t mind repeating it

dozens of times,

as he does every morning.

I throw the ball. He returns it. There is no new outcome to this game we play

and yet it exhilarates.

I wish I could love the little things;

the rituals and games and conversations

repeated with no new outcomes,

the way that he loves

that tennis ball


Bonus poem: Time is you

Not a reckoning; a slow awakening.
A mindful turn from old to new.
Taking it slow, taking the time,
because time isn’t money – it’s you.


PS – I love writing and I love eating! If you want to help with the latter (and ONLY if you want) you can maybe buy me a coffee?  🙂

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2 thoughts on “That Tennis Ball (poem)

  1. Hi Jessica, I’m trying to contact you from Participations, the journal of Audience and Reception Studies. Could you email me?
    (Professor Sue Turnbull, Editor, Participations)

    Like

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