Friday, September 12, 2014

Another Round

   The bell sounds again
I lift myself off the wooden stool
   My legs
     concrete blocks shuffling to the center
          of the ring

Another round

I lift my hands
   tied into old gloves
   the stuffing beat down
      blood seeping from my knuckles
   darkening the worn leather

I am tired
  My opponent
           Pops his neck
           Shuffles his feet
He looks as fresh as a new day

I know I will have to dodge and weave
   and pray I land a lucky punch
I breathe deeply
Close my eyes for a second


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