reason


you have no reason
to be in the ring –
no score to settle with your body,
nothing to prove through fists

no child to inspire, no snub to avenge

boxing is not symbolic
of a larger fear, no dread
to conquer other than brain
bouncing inside skull
like balloon off palm

no dream of blood on your gloves,
eyes stuffed with bruise

you watched documentaries
on ali for the poetry,
raging bull on a de niro kick

satisfaction in a clean, deliberate hit
to her face, neat weave
from her rebuttal, but never joy

adrenalin snuffed, aching
every time you turn in bed,
you try to find a rationale
strong enough to quell doubts,
to see you through tomorrow’s rounds,
anything more significant
than for the hell of it