Defeat

When I’m tired, my jaw hangs a little left.

A reminder of the night at the Rail

where I learned I wasn't the man

I thought I was in the mirror.

I didn't even get a hand up.

I just stayed there on the floorboards,

feeling the beer-soaked wood

against my skin, smelling the sawdust

and the salt of my own mouth,

waiting for the world to stop spinning

so I could crawl to the exit.