Iain Britton
Boxing On
The heavyweight boxing
championship of the world
is on in every living-room
and bar and I’m pumping
my legs
along empty streets.
Enthusiasm
erupts from windows
televisions flinch
a solar plexus gives
with each successive punch.
O Caesar
one more bloodied animal
‘bites the dust’.
*
At this time of year
birds act punch drunk
amongst salivating blossoms.
Spring pushes the blood
gorging the nerves.
*
The fight is over
the streets flash neon
and the city
shakes its head.
I’m one amongst a million
down to a walk
up Mountain Road. A man
sits in a gutter
and knocks out ants.
‘It’s not the size that counts’
he boasts, boxing on.
Page(s) 34
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