Pugilism
It almost looks like affection,
arms clasped around shoulders,
barely any space between
the two men, air between them
crackling with the promise of collision,
of impact. They slam fists into one
another's faces, turn skin
mottled and purple. Hollows puff
up, and what sticks out
(noses, cheekbones) soon
gets smashed in. I will tell
you this, my friend: the world
goes away for the men in the ring.
Flesh is pummeled and torn, and
they revel in the sounds of the body
proving how vulnerable it is not.
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