Otto von Krupp, the jackbooted, swastika-caped wrestler
we hated more than July hailstorms on our Cornhusker fields
meanest-of-the-mean, boastful Otto von Krupp
who grinned and sneered as he abused his opponents
that sometimes “Baron” Otto von Krupp, a.k.a. Crusher Dugan,
Boris Malenko, The Bruiser etc & etc—a quintessential “heel”
whose touted visit to our nondescript burg drew a horde
of young and old guys and gals bent on booing the villain
and rooting for the hero who’d climb through the ropes
of the cosmic ring to vanquish evil’s embodiment,
World War II not forgotten in late ‘50s America still ready
to punish some Nazi strutting around like he owned the world.
We witnessed barn-red blood and showers of saliva and sweat,
heard flesh smack flesh and bodies crash hard against the canvas
and each other, until von Krupp’s nastiness proved so egregious
the referee DQ’d him, awarding the bout to the battered soul
whose name 70 years have erased. But within memory’s ropes
I still can see Otto von Krupp showboating, circling, attacking,
his eye raking, hair pulling and pile driving meant
to give Time a bruising not soon forgotten.
Darrell Petska is a retired university engineering editor and three-time Pushcart Prize nominee. His work appears in Verse-Virtual, 3rd Wednesday Magazine, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Amethyst Review, and widely elsewhere (conservancies.wordpress.com). Father of five and grandfather of seven, he lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with his wife of more than 50 years.
One Fall Review 