Muse of Badminton

And when I heard your name
spoken, I already knew:
you came to steal my game.

All my quick smashes will be returned.

There is no forgiveness
in those eyes, as they followed
the falling flight, the dropping
trajectory of the feathered orb.

Those eyes reflect
no neon signs, only flame
and fire and flexed beauty,
framed by the lines
that the net provides
from the opposite side
of the Tareflex court.