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.