Creative Writing, Venue

Fight Night

And he didn’t want to box again.

Didn’t want to stand over that boy

to see his thin lip pumped fat

like a twisted balloon,

misshapen and almost cleft.

A scab had formed on the crumpled cut

and H knelt to say it’s fine, you’ll be fine

but they pushed him away to the corner.

A wedge of lip was caught and as 

they stretcher him out J saw

they couldn’t dislodge the last node of flesh.

It was stuck there like a poppy seed

between his two large front teeth.

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About Author


Chris Matthews