The Pugilist’s Daughter

From THE PUGILIST IN TWELVE ROUNDS

When I was eight years old, my father taught me

how to box and I have been sparring my way

into and out of his corners ever since. In one

of the hundreds of boxing articles he imposed

on my memory, I once read boxing was like math,

calculating angles. I was destined to fail his beloved

Geometry because I had it all backwards, he said.

I believed in metaphor and meter the way a boxer

believes in footwork and timing. Boxing, angles, tennis

dodged my southpaw. Forty-Love. The pugilist

is winning. I don’t know how to break his serve.

What comprises home? How do we reconcile our past? When do we forgive? With precision and insight, Judith Antelman looks back at the labyrinth that was her childhood. Through poetic forms, The Pugilist’s Daughter harnesses exhilaration and loss. Part celebration, part lament. Travel on this journey that begins in Judith’s hometown, and shifts landscapes as far as the west coast, Central Europe, and home again.