An episode of neighbours
and three minute noodles.
Pack the bag; t-shirt, wraps.
Put on the big coat. Go.
Through the park with the
Lights off. Benches filled
With cautionary tales.
Over the fence,
middle of the estate.
Before the door opens
I hear the echo of a blow
followed by the twinkle of
the chain
and from the sound alone
I know
Jetmir is first to train.
Second floor of
A town hall. Girls club
On Thursdays.
The wraps, gum shields
and first aid kit share
cupboard space with
DVD’s of Honey,
Save The Last Dance
And the Nutty Professor 2.
Two quid in the tin,
no one’s counting.
Six pm, feels like morning.
Give Jetmir a nod
and plug the clock in.
Jetmir once beat an
England Prospect
so thoroughly
the rival gym looked into
getting him deported.
The floor is in a
constant sate of
slight wobble.
as if one tile is missing.
you feel a slide
when feet twist down.
The wall space is filled with
laminated back pages
from local papers
of boys done good.
Sharing their hall of fame
with Ringside magazine pullout posters.
World champions rubbing shoulders
with hometown heroes.
Lennox Lewis- MGM Grand.
Sean Mahoney- Kentish Town Irish centre.
The back of the rope
brushes my achilles
Wait till the clock hits zero.
Warm up till thoughts and
movement are one.
The gym fills bodies.
(Ben, Antoine, Max,
Ropes skip in unison
Marlon, Alfie, Taylor
Bags swing and boom
Jamal, Patrick, Simon,
Combinations on pads
Phapa, TJ, Georgie,
Rattle like firecrackers.
Etcetera, etcetera,)
Look in the mirror.
Hold my stance.
Keep the elbow in
When throwing the jab
Work on shifting
Weight on the move.
Put advice in practice
Till the body retains.
Push weight down
Feel the energy rise up
Twist the foot
Turn the hip launch
The punch
Every move
Builds an incremental distance
Between the past and present.
outside of boxing
All my passion for life evaporates
Under the heat of existence.
Here, under these conditions
With this structure, I can build.
The condensation fills the gym
Spar with my friends
Making me strong by
Exposing my vulnerability
Dads’ moved out
Mum’s working late.
This is my home today.
Sparring partners as siblings
Trainers as parents
shouting combos and
Whispering plaudits.
The sounds wind down.
Two and a half hours
Of everything I’ve got
and at the same time, filled up.
I change my t shirt. Big coat on.
While walking down the stairs
I hear the chain twinkle in time
To the sound of the blow.
Jetmir’s back on the bag
and on hearing that I know
While the gym is my home.
For Jetmir, boxing is life.