the shadow boxer
never gets cut
or goes down, never
takes the pummeling
of punches that
rattle the brain,
loosen teeth.
it's easy to face
the mirror in
the low lights,
behind the scenes
and dance and bob
and weave your way
through one fight
after another, never
losing, never
tasting leather,
or your own blood,
or hearing the
eight count, the jeers
and chants of the
crowd. each swing
and jab, each
uppercut touches
nothing but air, all
of them misses,
and you realize that
at some point
you have to get into
the ring to win
or lose, or else
stay in the shadows
unknown.
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1 comment:
Excellent. Love it. What a wonderful metaphor on so many levels. So when are you going to get out the blogspot shadow and submit your work and get some credit for it? Nag, nag, nag -- that's all I do anymore.
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