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Shane Hunt
Poems
Sep 2012
The Prizefight
Words washed over me:
past the point of no return,
catching clarity at the elbow.
Arms limp at my sides,
a pugilist after 8 rounds with Ali,
suddenly realizing
he
had been conserving his energy
while I hurled hay-makers
at uplifted gloves,
none of my hate hit home.
She spoke the knock-out blow
or, the ghost of her voice...
"You have to admit to yourself
that ******* a stranger's
the only way you can hide anymore."
You only start listening
after exhausting your arsenal.
The void of
my mouth
swallowed her sentiments.
I took up the
empty husk of her heart
to make it my home,
just to have a memento--
holding on to anything.
On the ropes,
disoriented,
skipping chapters to
take in the denouement
only to forget the characters' names.
But I couldn't ignore how
she closed the door;
Gently-
not a slam
screaming passion, energy.
No.
The door and jamb met resignedly--
children who can no longer play with one another.
Written by
Shane Hunt
Saturn
(Saturn)
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Aimee Toney
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