Round house

I used to love
to kick things
as hard as I could
like people
on the side of their heads
if they didn’t move
I remember the feelings
of taking a foot to the face
the pain shock & humility
the deafening pressure—the ringing
to destroy between a helmet and a chest piece
the barriers between us—the rules governing
our moves but not our emotions—
I’m reminded of this at the hip
with every step I take
toward my grave


Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s