Stockholm open

My sports bra is doing nothing
to wick the sweat
dripping between my breasts
as I pause,
sun beating down on me,

and in a single motion
my arm raises and
I connect,
and fuck if
I didn’t net the damn ball.

So we’re standing here
on opposite ends of the court
watching the ball
sway in the net,
neither of us moving to
release it
for your play

which gives you a
meaningless point
and leaves me at love.

but in tennis,

love
equals

zero

It always has.