Hit me where it hurts,
pigeon-toed and bent,
a grimace for a smile and all the while
the sense of a message well sent,
and perhaps those two walnuts
will lose their task complete,
when you wake me up to my bullshit,
with a kick so direct and neat.
But a moment if you please,
before I weakly fall to my knees,
just let me know what sin I’ve shown
to deserve such justice, such clarity
of mind so harshly dealt and keenly felt,
I’ll not sit down for a week,
but I thank you for your quick response
and the lesson I so need.
Before the sentence carried out,
that blinding pain and voiceless shout,
exactly what did I say,
to attract such stinging praise,
your silent rage a query I must raise,
at least to realize my mistake,
for bruised am I from your last foray,
and the memory lingers still.
So accepting I shall be,
I start quivering at the knees,
the coming pain is too acute in fear to reign,
my pleading silent refrain,
I’ll just take it like a man, if I can,
although a man I might not be at end,
that blow my final show,
my exit plan on go.
In slow motion that stiletto arcs,
its hot and red and pointy,
and may as well be a shark with razor teeth,
for all the pain it contains in brief,
and as it finds its mark,
my eyes roll back a heart attack,
an inward crumple I endure,
when a woman finds my cure.
Tony DeLorger © 2018