(Kate’s Recording)

they stand fixed
lost in the club room clatter,
gloves pummel on bruised arms

colours smudge blue
turning to indigo  turning to purple
then back to default red

stung by the ring of the bell
caught in the low lights
a left jab    an upper cut

slipping and swaying
thrown back on the ropes
a right hook  spins him round

flashlights pop   catch the blow
one    two    three    four    five
he lies senseless

his mouth an open O
six    seven    eight    nine
a stranger in his own skin
ten and