In the Corner

In The Corner Slumped, he sat in the corner deaf to the chatter of his “cornermen”, immune to their inane exultations.. He bore the look, a weary warrior called to battle once too often, asked to bear one more responsibility, one more round, one more beating. He had studied Ali’s “Rope-a-Dope”, slipped most - but not all – of the punches. He would answer the bell for that is who he is a fighter, a warrior. Years had worn him thin, disappointment had scarred him, hope had lied to him. His only respite the time in the corner surrounded by those dependent on him. Slumped on a stool wondering when the bell would ring again, wondering if this would be last round, last pain, final tear. ©3/23/2017 submitted to – In the Corner – Poetry Contest