the curved backrest of a wooden chair
rises over snow-dusted asphalt—
a boxer’s bowed spine
pulling himself up from canvas
broken spars of wood that held back to seat
cling like broken teeth;
training and instinct tell him
get up! get up and fight!
scattered around the back alley with other trash:
seat, legs—yesterday’s bones.
KO’d in the 12th, this brutal match is over:
stay down, stay down.
(for January 3)