The Under Review - Issue 4 | Summer 2021

46 ELPHICK
been in a real fight in a long time. In his mind,
this is just a game, a movie: he is Errol Flynn,
and I am whatever unnamed guard he has to slice
off the screen. On the sidelines, the spectators cheer
and caw, place bets, urge us on. There is a kind of violence
beneath every sport, and my relatives love each other
violently, would kill for one another, if they had to.
Every Christmas, all the cousins play Spoons,
wrestle on the rug over bits of metal. They shoot
hoops in the driveway, goals on the lawn, they fire
air rifles off the back porch. They join the team,
become athletes. They join the military, take aim
at the enemy. My family does not see me as
their enemy, but still, I have never quite been
on their team. Every conversation is a competition,
and finally, after years of keeping out of their contests,
I am speaking a language they understand. Finally,
a game to gather around, a way to connect with me.
Now, in this adrenaline-soaked passing
of the seconds, I am alive to every bodily tremor,
every opening in my uncle’s guard. I become
a scientist. I finger my instrument with care,
know each corner of its physics, how to sink
into gravity’s embrace, let momentum guide me.
Every fight is an experiment, but my body
has been beaten into knowing the principles.
I know what wood brought down on thumb does.
I’ve seen blades snap and skin bruise and
I am tired of being seen by my family in one way,
of owing them anything, even this pitiful duel.
Go on, Owen, get him! I hear someone yell,
and I lunge. And even when my tip sinks
into my uncle’s side, I am not sure who has won.
THE UNDER REVIEW