You hook your glove
into my eye;
thus hooked, no smile I reply.
You hook your glove
into my plexus core.
Man, that hurts! I gotta say.
I’d utter hardened words,
but that blow took my breath away.

To make you abate, I hold you. . .
squeeze my arms around you
till your breath is bated.
Waiting, I, to punch you
how soon till I pound you?

Your gut: I’ll hook my glove. . .
perhaps your face. . .
a hook to your privates place.
It’s time to fight. . .
a shot right to your heart—
I just hope that I don’t miss
I paste your nuts, you’ll bow
and the canvas you will kiss.

Like a jacket strait I hold you,
squeeze my arms around you.
You’re nearly sedated. . .
make my move and punch you
hard and you go down to
the canvas flo’;
I drop below
and punch you mo’.