(i) The Contenders
Promoters said we'd make a perfect match:
two Amateurs, both "promising"; one purse.
If nothing else could "bring us up to scratch"-
the knowledge that we'd never reimburse
our "backers". PLUS: the venue was "a snatch".
A little gentle sparring - nothing worse...
We weren't to know - the chances seemed so slight-
we'd meet again for one last title fight.
(ii) Punch Drunk
We've fought before, so know what to expect
(we've seen each others' feints, blocks, body blows).
A formal touch of gloves in quaint respect
then step in closer, toes aligning toes,
quite through with dancing, anxious to connect-
just two half-blinded, broken-down old pros.
Exhausted, all that's keeping us upright
is our opponent - so we hang on tight.
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Kevin Saving would be
pleased to hear them