Old Boxer Love Song

The old boxer stands in the ring.


He sways a bit.


Just a bit.


There are scars,

Old battle wounds,

And bruises that are slow to heal.


Slower these days than when he was young.


His skin is rougher,


Than it once was.


Many blows.


Many fights.


Many losses.


He’s not as fast

Or strong.


Slower these days than when he was young.


He stands in the ring.


He returns to the ring,

Again and again.


He makes his stand in the ring.


He knows.


He can’t win in the locker room.


Ghosts linger

Ghosts linger


In the corners,

In the shadows,

In the edges.


Fragments of memories of shadows.


They cling.


They tug.


They wail,

Soft and low, a whisper in the dark.


Ghosts grasp with desperate fingers,

Held and holding,

A chained moment of choice,

Chains sunk deep in unremembered memory.


Ghosts drag,

Like anchors of cold fog,

Weighting each step.



No more.


Begone ghosts.


I release you.