Ring Girl

by john clare

She took four strands of old ski rope
Stretched it taunt in a square of canvas
twenty-four feet square
in the front yard
Two feet upon concrete blocks above the
Bahia grass
Padded the turnbuckles from boat cushions
and set a sawed off  kitchen stool
in the opponents corner
took the sewing machine and made
her a silken sequined gown
with matching Everlast trunks
and on the fifth Saturday of the Month
Entered her ring
Declaring any Palooka who can go the distance with me
can have me.
In the lady-made ring stooped
the Sugar Rays
Led by glass jawed lust
for an easy lay upon canvas
The right-handed orthodox
came with dream of
being the one to have her
as one by one
her haymaker met shattered
cheeks kissing canvas.
Eventually the punch drunk
stopped coming as word of
the Ring Girl spread.
No one for her to bolo punch.
No one to hit below the belt,
 throw body punches.
No combinations.
No tomato men to defeat.
Upon the day she decided
to step from the ring
to hang the gloves
undefeated
As she floated like a butterfly
from the ring
The lower ski rope caught
her and stung like a bee
as she fell solidly to the
Bahia grass below
Hayseed settling upon
that ruby gown.
The Palooka's from far
and wide gathered
glass jaws taut
as the
Memorial ring count
sounded.