Wednesday, February 08, 2006


It’s the jab that sets it all up,
pop-pop, wait for the mistake.
Wait for that off-balance second
and you come in with a hook
to the ribs and a shoulder and clinch.

Counter-punch. Take his power
and whack him upside the head
with it. Life’s a dirty fight, kid;
don’t let ‘em tell you otherwise
and don’t be afraid to step on some toes.

Heart? Sure, you need heart
but all your fire won’t stop
an ice-water punch. I’ve seen
a thousand losers with heart,
seen them go down and stay down.

Getting lucky has never
been a matter of luck.
Wait for the moment. Wait
like a lover for that goodnight kiss.
It will come for the counter-puncher.

Stephen Brooke ©2006

I consider this to still be very rough.

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