After the five-ring
circus of their sex
she draped herself in
no-one’s flag, had
no medals around her
neck, heard
no applause or cheers
from
non-existent
spectators, was not
judged or awarded
points or
penalised for some
minor infringement,
but still
sweated, dripped,
struggled to
catch her breath,
needed badly to
rehydrate, looked
forward to a
possible repechage.
(Image used by kind permission of
Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The
poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)
