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
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2017
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