South-Bound Steam Engine: An Elegy for Sonny Liston
by Wayne Presley
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Two fists like twin trains
barreling through the Arkansas country-night
sending men back home
The 24th of the litter and a Goblin among men
Sonny, you were truly American-made
An American, crushing stones and punching holes
in granite jaws
A harbinger of pain
The bitter post-man
with savage black-stone hands
Bad news
Eater of the innocent
Night-fiend of the squared circle
They led 'em out on stretchers
one after the other
Bodies heaped in the corner
and you grimacing like a shining troll-prince
Master of Men
Crunching bones with noisy jabs
like dump-trucks
and sledgehammers
Full of midnight fire and venom
The Boogey-man of the era
and a warning to the young
If you don't eat your green-beans
little Johnny
Sonny'll eat you
Not the Brown-Bomber
but the Black-Steam Engine
rolling over the graves
of his silent, helpless victims
Gulping their blood
Shoving tenderized flesh
by the pound
into his gaping mouth
With a left like a Bouncin' Betty
and a right like Gabriel's own trumpet
Enough to make Floyd Patterson's knees wobble a bit
Enough to soil the drawers of any red-blooded
God-Fearing American
Sonny Liston was a Juggernaut
Bulldozing his way
through
giant
honest heros
and making mince-meat
of the brave
Like a modern-day Grendel
Devourer of small children
If you ever saw the Clay fights
you know that they were fixed.
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