Proving Grounds, The

From the Bench-Press Meet

57 From The bench-Press meeT Lying on my back on the cracked vinyl bench Shutting my eyes vice-tight before my training Partner shouts, me, the men, the studs, the boys Playing Oscar de Leon under a cloud of puros, Cigars we’ll smoke together right after this meet, The Annual Central NewYork BenchWar, All of our hips of sky rolling, rolling Billy’s alcoholic father in the space behind his breath, His own tendency to go through Several cases of Keystone Light each week, Terence with his parole officer Over his shoulder and that upstate prison Still in his eyes, and me, their tough buddy girl friend Wearing old scars the way I’ve built my shoulders tight, Our fathers behind us rolling and rolling As each of us strains to press Something inside us much thicker than our heads, Our hearts, our chests, our breaths. ...