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.