Men, Not Beasts

Adolescent heads constricted
Tight grasp of aging leather and foam
Musk of aged exertion accompanies tang of new
Sweat highlight armpits,
Pink stains tile the ring.
Will I bleed?

Call my name. Step into ring.
Mirrors, gray walls fade
Tunnel vision
Jaws clench
We circle. Testing, prodding.
Waking beasts of temper.
Pulse hammering ears,
Forget to breathe

Draw closer, sizing up
Dark eyes over red fists
I HookBodyJabFace
Flatten nose
Distant voices
Must be a point

Dark eyes lose their cool
On the defensive now carefully
Careless vicious blows open face
Circle out of reach on toes and
I JabFaceCircleJabFace

Hail of red gloves
Bashed in the nose
Animal rage emerges

Possess me
Ready to maim, avenge
Kill.
Fists fly unbidden
Flat on heels
Grunting angrily
Distant sound
Keep grinding fists to face
Shit, it was the bell
Back away warily

Gasping for air, aftermath of primal exertion
Instinct-autopilot disengages slowly
Gray walls and bright mirrors slide into focus
Other people around the ring, silent
Squirt of warm water
Back to nursing ragged lungs
Emptily contemplating the floor

Strut to center of ring
Staring into dark eyes
Jaw clenched, arms and abs tense
Pulse accelerates, adrenaline anger rises
Bump fists
Bell rings I JabFaceUppercutJabFace
Blood spurts

Joy in the depth of the gut
Crushed his nose
Hurt him
Broke him
Consuming satisfaction.

There is no more blood
But many more punches
Later, sweat-soaked and bone weary
Peeling away damp gloves, wraps, headgear
We are alone in the equipment room
Surrounded by empty skulls and still fists
Good fight, man. You too.
Back on the shore of civility
Taken aback by ourselves.
Rage subsides, leaving only soul exhaustion
We piece together torn humanity.
Men, not beasts, I think
Trying hard to convince
A bruised notion of self

Thanks to David Rosen for the picture

https://www.flickr.com/photos/davidrosenphotography/