The Body of the Tennis Player
The Tennis Player lost his famous temper
in heavy traffic,
careened into a telephone pole. Spike.
At the hospital, they cut him open,
saw that
his brain was swelling:
“even if he survives,” they said,
“he’ll be less than he was, a smaller
man—a ping pong ball to a tennis
ball.”
—
They took out half his brain—
they can do that now—
his left hemisphere.
They packed the empty space with
ping pong balls,
They can do that, you know,
and stitched him back together.
“This way he won’t forget,”
they said. “He’ll always remember
who he was—in some way.”
—
He favored his left leg when he walked,
temper no longer famous,
he spoke slowly,
but his backhand was just as wicked.
