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
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