PS Cottier

Will the Iron Lady, her ample metal skirt
spreading like the nineteenth century,
miss the glimpse of two-piece sport
when women pushed a ball over a net
planted in a sudden burst of beach?
Will she recall spectators’ stands?
Will she dream of that quick-built strand?

PS Cottier

Image by Maksim Sokolov, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.

I've been glutting on sport lately, both AFL (live) and the Olympics (at ungodly hours).  I particularly liked the huge weightlifters (and the wee ones), the wrestlers, and the beach volleyball, in the wonderful stadium on the Champ de Mars.  This poem is about that sport.

At least the footy is still going!