heavy bags


each a different, blind, opponent:

old prize fighter,
still hard-muscled in the gut
but face caved, duct-taped

barrel-chested canvas heavyweight
on a flabby comeback,
strong but slow, creaking
on its thick spring

spry black leather
moves loose and eager,
won't let you in close,
but nudges, gutsy,
inside your range



can't throw, won't win
but invincible --
never ache, never tire,
don't double over a fist,
just steadily siphon energy,
store it deep, swaying --
trees in the wind --
an hour after the last punch