PS Cottier

Foul

I was warned about suddenly dodgy knees
from stopping, ground-anchored with ball,
not travelling, rose-red cheeks blooming
if I mis-stepped, netball unlike free dancing.

But it was my back that wrenched, pain slicing.
Score forgotten, I limped and winced, green
stomach threatening to disgrace the court.
Later, my mother warned Be quiet about it, 
or we’ll get you a metal brace. The idea
of steel encasing me, a permanent cage,
a canary caught in inflexible grid, shut me up.  

I cried at night, tried to hide spasms at school.
A broken bone flexing from that ladylike sport?

PS Cottier

Netball was the main team sport for girls back when I was at primary and secondary school, which was a few years after that wonderful image held by the State Library in Queensland. I don’t think I actually broke my back playing the game, but I certainly twinged it!