Standing Eight

Standing Eight
by wynn everett
She an out-fighter
gradually tactic. He more
a swarmer, time still on the clock.
No mismatch first nine,
footwork in place,
1960’s shag platform
four feet off the grass.
Rounds ten through fifteen,
in her corner reclines
(suburban ropes
expand quietly with age).
Hardly counting the score after forty in play,
no crosses or hooks, just some jabs
during meals.
After years of the wrapping the audience gone,
and the bell crows at sunrise,
inside the ring.

0 thoughts on “Standing Eight

  1. I think this is outstanding.
    H & H has had a long run of REALLY good stuff lately. I’m gonna have to step up my game just to get a piece on here again. Most of what I write nowadays is shit.
    But this is awesome. It’s beautiful when a writer can take an arc of a lifetime relationship and condense it into a few short, well-crafted lines.
    Few poems compel me to write, but this one does.

  2. I like how they quoted this line from you misener in the H&H message sent out yesterday but left out the end where you say that you’re recent writing is shit. Probably because that’s bullshit good sir, and I reference Hills No More to support that.

  3. Eight is enough. I like the use of the age to define the score in the contest. It’s pretty accurate. Marriage can be a attrition trial waged in time invested, reaching for a brass ring as it were.

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