Featherweight

by Elliott Bell

I’d touch and tap politely,
Barely a stiff breeze.
You’d pound your point deliberately
Exhausting me with ease.

Perhaps you were too rough
Or I should’ve been more tough –
But the imbalance has left me reeling,
Sick of the bobbing and the weaving.

So I finally threw a punch.
And now you can’t get up.
It isn’t what I wanted,
But I’d had enough.

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