Furry monster man in an Everlast
sweatshirt, recalling
the boxing rings with corners
for death, drawing
Mohammed Ali,
rope-a-doping
“Float like a butterfly,
sting like a bee,”
melt
into the stink
of the canvas,
knowing Everlast
is the opposite
of what the brand suggests.
.
American Culture, Death, Depression, Fear, Isolation, Poems, Poetry, Resistance, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on October 21, 2012, 9:30 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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stillfugue
#1 by Carl D'Agostino on October 22, 2012 - 3:58 am
They never last. Father fought NYC PAL from 14 and then in WW 2 army. A middleweight. They kept him stateside for exhibition bouts in camps all over US. Lucky him. He did last. His unit had 95% casualties.
#2 by Carl on October 25, 2012 - 1:37 pm
The world is all about casualties.