the first year,
it was a sobbing
apocalypse,
i hung from the shower
curtains just to hold
my heaviness up,
heavyweight, i was shadowboxing it,
fighting what i could never touch
no tangible thing, only phantoms,
because it was done.
but it was not so long gone
that i wasnt crying out at night,
rolling all my punches to that fragile side,
taking every emotion in the gut,
as if it would bring him back.

last year was suspended,
a limbo of numbness, i took every blow to the face
and felt nothing.
every man that i bedded was him, and i hated them just has much
as i could ever hate or love him.
every man was a championship, a belt to notch, but no one.
not one contender could land a solid fist to the heart.
there was never a tear, there was never a spark.
only myself in a ring, boxing the darkness.

this year is welterweight,
i feel the floor move, even as i dance on it,
im lighter on my feet,
but these gloves are still heavy,
my opponent is more ghostly.
i hardly remember connecting, each fist that i throw
is not thrown at him, but past him,
when the knock out is called,
it is still me on the floor.

10/18/2011

Posted on 10/18/2011
Copyright © 2025 Vikki Owens