For Olrando Cruz
He was a delicate boy dainty as the stem of a carnation.
An eater of fairy cakes and banana
bread.
An attender of Yoga classes, weekly bending and stretching
the Ashtanga Sun Salutations.
He could pirouette as smooth as Billy
Elliot.
He read the poetry of Shakespeare
and Dickinson. He quenched the
thirst
and trimmed the foliage of countless
houseplants.
In the ring though, he'd cave your face
in wide as Fingal's Cave,
bring out a flock of bluebirds singing
and spinning into concussion.
A proud man, nineteen wins one draw two defeats.
Knocks out teeth round after around.
