I Punched A Girl In The Heart

I punched a girl in the heart

when she finally realized my breath is what I write

when her small hand could finally find rest

in this course and calloused hand of mine

that was laden with traces of broken promises

that she had the courage to pluck out

as if she was picking out pieces of the acacia caffra avenging its fall

for color and the pipit’s nest went in the fall

A punch that shook her heart’s veins

and caused a discourse with all that made sense

because blood flow changed course

and she was falling yet standing

And here stood this man fallen

but unidentified with angels of low flight

for his only sin was this here rebellion:

refusing to run away when you’ve made a woman bleed from what you write

This punch sprawled across papyrus and heart beats

formed by fingers that are letters and words

informed by her courage to enter this ring

with no gloves and no bell to ring

no ropes and no towel to throw in

no coach and no referee

just the acceptance to risk a fall for victory

with fear the only thing bruised