Jim Dunn

A Punch Is a Poem

Written in distress
Rhythm beating
The whittle pain flashes
From the aftershock lost

The lightning of a sonnet
The head snaps back in motion
As muscles play on the pipes

Under protest
A shout caught in your shoe
A hemorrhage
Going off in your hands.

Spit armed with a hammer
Ramming a thousand
Delivered in a pipe bomb

Returned for insufficient postage

Gunning for
Land square on the jaw.