Howard Firkin
(The prize fight diva)
Falling in a ragged octave
Moving down the scale
Hitting new low notes on footpaths
Waiting for the voice to fail

Living on an edge of canvas
Praying for the bell
Never throwing in the bouquet
Saved again by each farewell

TKO’d inside a doorway
Stage door johnnies pass
Fearful of a final curtain
Calling for another glass

Training for a past career
Peddling sold befores
Shadow boxing all three tenses
Singing my forgotten scores