Fight Or Flight Poem by Ernest Hilbert

For a retired boxer

Trekking city streets, I am mercury
Tilting in glints down a vertical grid.
I am as much an Iliadic
As a cool Odyssean entity.
I force my course, and I never could
Flee a fight, however idiotic.
It's easier to run than to stand off,
But then I'd wonder if I could have won
If I had just held my square of sidewalk.
All my flights lead only to further loss.
All victories become added burden.
All escapes and scars may as well be mocked:
Days drizzle to dust, and the cold years creep,
As great oceans gather rain in my sleep.