The irritation doesn’t boil in me
it is more like a stiffening
so that my joints crack as I walk
and my eyes blink less
he sees that I am over the threshold
into an emotion made of hot iron
and so with the love that comes
from observing the same person for sixteen years
he steps carefully in front of my path
and he gives me my boxing gloves
as he puts the pads over his own hands
give it all you have, love
he says and I punch and punch
letting the little furies
pound out of me
finally returning to laughter
and tears
and flesh.
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