The Tennis Court
Kat Code

I remember the park
down the street from our house.
It had red, wooden swings,
a merry-go-round (“Stay back from the edge!”),
one of those twirly, yellow slides
that gives off a static charge,
and a tennis court.

Every winter,
neighbourhood men got together
and flooded the tennis court
(at minus twenty, it didn’t
take long to freeze).
An old Zamboni was
donated by a local ice rink.
Benches were put
outside the court;
shoes stashed away
under the benches.

In the court,
snow piled up in three
of the four corners
(The fourth was the entrance).
These piles were great
pillows for those who
couldn’t stop, those
(like myself) who
were just learning how
to skate.

I’ve been back there since,
but only in the summer.
I doubt I will ever again
skate on the ice
in that tennis court.