(knock. it. off.)
Indefatigable fists emit impulses of energy
up her solar plexus
sparking ideas that fly from her head.
Precise and Infinite hits.
She wants people to kneel at their creation
while she pounds invisible nails
into her palms.
She grows accustomed to the distance people keep.
Tidal rhythms ebb and flow
with whisperings of bitterness
and how you never know.
Betrayed, she wrings her hands in her lap.
Brenda Warren 2013