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