Boxing

I remember, me, a little girl

A helmet of curly hair

And one of a handful of happy memories that I have of him, ‘Dad’

My brothers at school

We were boxing

I’d listened to the guidance with a child’s intent and misunderstanding

Always block

I used to put the gloves on and walk around with them pressed against my face

Completely blind

Desperately wanting to be taken seriously

I was so excited to be stood on the bed

Almost as tall as him

The fight escalating

And then a nosebleed

I was excited

But it was over,

Girls get hurt,

He never boxed with me again.

I never boxed again.