Why You, Why Me

this man, that man, thee man my father stood salient before my eyes and like Louis over Schmeling or Ali over Liston without cheer from onlookers who bet everything on the challenger the cool, cool silence of anger was deafening still, I knew love when it shined and on this day love melted past the horizon leaving me to wonder in sullenness–why the participants whom I thought were just like me in love with everything, in hate with nothing–froze as if this were the end this woman, that woman, thee woman my mother lies on the floor legs askew, arms likewise her gaze blank, her mouth ajar crimson flowing free from her being and like Schmeling under Louis or Liston under Ali she lay victory a mere misnomer this man, that man, thee man–I stand before my son’s eyes and like Louis over Schmeling or Ali over Liston I hover–my wife the mirror image of my mother