A poem by J.L. Delozier.
Her son pummeled his way to the top of the boxing world,
pounding his opponents to pulp with a trick left and a lightning right.
He was a southpaw,
a joy to watch in the ring, which he circled while stalking his prey.
He bobbed. He weaved. He fell, as all boxers do.
One knockout too many.
One ten-count too few.
Her son was a southpaw, but now he uses both hands to drink from a sippy cup.
Even so, the liquid trembles.
She feeds him with her left hand.
Momma’s a southpaw, too.
As a physician, J.L. Delozier draws inspiration from science that exists on the edge of reality—bizarre medical anomalies, new genetic discoveries, and anything that seems too weird to be true. The first of her four thrillers was nominated for a “Best First Novel” award by the International Thriller Writers organization. Her short fiction has won a Roswell Award and appeared in Artemis Journal, Thriller Magazine, Retreats from Oblivion, and the anthologies, Noirville: Tales from the Dark Side and Writers Crushing COVID-19. By day, she’s an Associate Clinical Professor of Medicine at Penn State. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and three rescue cats. See more at www.jldelozier.com