[This isn’t a poem about an actor or a role he once played nor is it about a boxer who uttered a woeful plea in the ring. It does have something of their spirits though hence the tags].


The steepest climb is what is known.

Step, stepped-up steppe in bid to gnaw

away your rival’s ibyx build,

to kill a wait of time afore

all air thins white

and then the fall.


And then the fall,

two fingers’ width

of probable cause

against the throat –

lingered – for more,

until the fall descended past

no mas, no more.


© Pat Mellow 2019

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