a poem by Charles Fisher, UK

Fight rigged:
He is against the robes
His arms cover his face
He stands and takes the blows
For a charity cause;
That's is close to his heart
Punches are like being in a rapids
Fast and furious the compinations
Compilations of the rounds:
Inbounds inbounds sixteen ounces;
Boxing clenched fists gloves
He thrives on the punches receive
The ring sides noisemakers!
He doesn't heeded
He sidesteps, crosses a right
His opponent didn't sidestepped
Lined like a torpedoed, he right hooks
Across his opponent chin; his
Opponent hits the canvas floor
He knocked him out,
With seconds to go

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