Cracked Ribs

The world is full of things

that want to break us.

I don’t think it takes a stretch

of the imagination

to say that. Carolines,

Joe Fraziers,

trampolines.

Flights of concrete

corners. Reluctant warners,

too-willing mourners.

It would be anti-evolutionary to claim

this place was meant to kill us.

It was meant to maim.

Keep ‘em up,

keep ‘em up,

keep the hands up.

Don’t give them a clean shot

at your head.

Expose the ribs instead.

Let ‘em crack

one or two.

There’s nothing

the doctors can do,

except leave you there,

on the canvas

still breathing and laughing.

January 8, 2018