Gloves Off
This is a rough draft of an idea I have had for a while. The Gomez/Gatti fight tonight finally inspired me to get it down. It needs work, but I thought I would share it. I might try to work something up to be a short story with a similar idea.
Gloves Off
July 2007
Jab. Jab. Right cross.
Gomez swings and punishes Gatti
For the glory. Ultra slow-motion
Captures brutality in crystal clarity.
A century ago, it was only blurs in an ashcan.
I’ve called my father and given him the heads-up.
I see him in that underwater squiggle
Making feints and small swings. His own
Miniature fight taking place in the
Livingroom of a house, close with the
Summer heat.
We both watch the weight of history fill
Gomez’s gloves. The mass of each blow
Shriveling the warrior, Gatti. It is a
Shared moment of violence
Crossing hundreds of miles in the time
Between the bell and the blood.
I used to hate boxing. I laughed at my
Father’s intense and rapt attention to
Foreman and Tyson crawling out of
Poverty through the ring. An alpha and omega
Of success.
Now. I am the one who makes sure to be
Around the TV. Now. I am the one who
Pesters him with the Question of the
Best “pound-for-pound.” We have found a
Commonality, or I have found it.
Moments conceived in sweat and exhaustion
Become family memories.
Could be that I am older, aware of the
Brutality of the world. Maybe now I know
How hard it has been for him. Maybe you
Have to take a punch to understand.
The bell rings and the round ends. The judges
Make their decision. My father and I stand
Together in awe as the decision comes
Down.