Nothing but net

[Gerryswo]

NOTHING BUT NET

Revision 1

The ball arched silently through the night
like a small moon
eclipsed against a wash of white light,
followed by a swish of net
and the thump of leather on the cracked black court.
The boy, facing invisible opponents,
grunted with exertion,
twisted, turned,
stopped, leapt,
shot.
Nothing but net.
His game echoed off the scarred brick face of abandoned hope
until he finally walked past the light
into the night,
thankful for the short time when he could forget,
not ready to go home yet,
reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.


If you listened
you could almost hear the ball
as it arched through the night,
silhouetted against the white light,
followed by a swish as it was constrained
briefly by the net
before thumping against the hard black surface.
Then the heaving grunt of exertion,
the singular slap of rubber on tar,
the silence,
the silence,
the thud of leather against a ring of iron.
The silence.
The repetition.
Finally, the boy, not even breathing hard,
walking past the light
into the night,
thankful for the short time when he could forget,
not ready to go home yet,
reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.