Short Time

Dad was a wrestling fan

I wrestled

He came to every meet

My sons wrestled

I went to almost every match

As a fan, Dad sat silently in the crowd

As a Dad I screamed my lungs out

Three two minute periods:

The first won with technique

the second won with conditioning

the third won with heart

When my sons were in trouble

on their backs, fighting the pin

I would watch the clock

and scream out the time

When they would hear “short time”

from their father

they would fight a few seconds longer

for the period to end

to get out of trouble

to begin again

Now my Dad is dying

He’s on short time

And me?

I don’t know what to scream…

***This poem was published in the Autumn 2019 issue of Blue Collar Review. It was also included in Cathy Edward's anthology, Heartspace in November, 2019.

The picture below appeared in the program for the Marshalltown Bobcats in 1978, when I was a sophomore in high school, wrestling in Iowa. I was a natural 98 pounds, and wrestled varsity every time Mike Fox couldn't make weight. I didn't win many matches, but I managed to get my "letter," for trying...