Dark Corners
by Odin Roark

He thought he knew angles.
After all,
he’d stumbled into the ropes,
been backed into the corners
for more than his share.

This was different.

He lay in bed,
fingering his glasses.
Should he wear them?
Leave them?
Did it matter?

His eyes dropped from the ceiling
to the backlit corner of his flapping window blind.
Green and red neon rolled its pattern outside,
nudging sticky air under the shade,
carrying the boredom of a lone pigeon
from the 10th floor ledge
to coo like a bell sinking under water.

He'd never had to consider this challenger before.
A mere corner of his hotel room
where only window and curtain
separated him from the final count.

He recalled the loud bells of the past,
the ones saving him many times.
But tonight...
tonight he was up against a real contender,
a massive force never faced before.
And there was nowhere to run.

This time

The bell was remaining silent.

He put on his glasses,
stood and stepped up to his final round.

He knew the mammoth shadow of his past,
the one his fists could never find,
would force him fot the mat someday.
It was inevitable.
Such a blow had been a long time coming.
Some of his life-trainer-experience called it
the forever-darkness-without-light.

He stepped out of the window
onto the ledge and was ready.

Until...

Until that beat up feathered warrior standing there
on its one leg,
stared at him with its only good eye
and cooed again.

It was another “again,”
like the bell underwater.

He hesitated,
adjusted his glasses,
gave one last glance at the injured pigeon and smiled.

"Tough love, ain’t it?"

He remained on the ledge
longer than he'd planned.