The Boxer Poem by r james sterzinger

you hear the count
over and over and
still over again.
you see the wave of the hand

sweat beads and falls
down your face puddles
to the end of your nose
one two three

you cling to the ropes
like summer wash
in a wind storm
four five six

you can feel
knees start to give
buckle. this is not
your body nor your soul
seven eight nine

the room and ceiling pull
around, down on top of you
the air is dead damp unforgiving
TEN! OUT FOR THE COUNT!

she has just walked out
she turned she smiled
you cannot love again
ruined man