the boxer

the boxer,
cut and bleeding
in his corner
as the card
girl walks
slowly by
with the round
number.
the crowd
on edge, he spits
into the bucket.
someone wipes
his brow.
he sees double
and his
head and muscles
ache
and pound from
not just this fight
but the ones
that came before
it. there is
only the next
payday now.
the notion of
being champ, long
gone.
the bell rings
and he gets up
to go to work
again. as do you.