Hello, folks. I've been dry of poems for some time now - no explanations,
just the order of things - & I've been frustrated because I couldn't join
in the Bio Project with any satisfaction.
Today I thought of a poem from some years ago that fits the bill, I
believe. In this macho society, it is difficult for men to show their
feelings, and the character in my poem had to wait until senile dementia
took away his inhibitions. Here t'is:
The Kid's Last Fight / Andrew Burke
Bouncing off canvas,
fighting fire, smoke
and bureaucracy
has drawn gentle Ben
to the surface
through all his days
of fireman and tent boxer.
Every-boy's-dream sits
in a neutral corner,
dubious legs
crossed- a legacy of
chasing the masculine,
to be a bloke
in this
jockstrap city.
Today he closes
his frayed
'Kid Wild' gown
around
wrinkled genitals,
a lifetime of girls
in his pulse, the call
"Go, Kid, go!"
down sawdust aisles ...
Even now they bathe
his knuckles in
the Extended Care Ward.
Between rounds
he grips their hands:
"All I ask's a slow count-
"Ya with me?
Eh? eh?
eh?"
(Available in 'Pushing at Silence', SALT Books 1996)
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Andrew Burke Copywriting
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http://www.bam.com.au/andrew/ Editing
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