Day Seven: ‘Ropes’

April 7, 2015

Ropes,
red ropes, blue ropes, white and
black.
Ropes to trap the fury inside,
the sweat, the
blood, the drama.

Men
with bulging arms and chests
slam
fellow men, some masked, some bleeding,
to the mat
in loud crunches.

Bright
colors from the TV
in
suburban parlors, kids drinking
the chaos
with feasting glee.

Real
men, fake stories, real hurt,
real
heart attacks in cheap hotel rooms.
Reel highlights,
real funerals.

Joy
flies from the turnbuckle —
a
dropping elbow to the falling gut,
a bright smile
from a young boy.

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