A slightly older bit of poetry

Tie Domi is My Co-Pilot

Once upon a time there were warriors.
Soft warriors, hard bones.
There was honor in fisticuffs.
It all came to that moment,
A decision to clench the fist,
To rear back,
Potential energy to kinetic energy,
Center of gravity shifting,
A fulcrum,
A banging of thin skin and flesh covered knuckles,
Making contact with cheekbone,
Then the collapsing cartilage of the nose.
Blood isn't apparent at first because it arrives at the temperature of the body.
It is startling when blood cools--
It is no longer of the body,
It is only evidence of what leaves the body.
Sometimes the collision of flesh and bone is a necessary evil.
Sometimes it is a thing of beauty that you can't even sing a pretty song about.

RJS
031104