Poetry is a martial art—
    its rhythms
                are the rhythms
   of combat—pacing—
  its words
                are etched with blood
                           with sweat
                           with body blows
 its meanderings
        are long arms
                entwining
  its punctuation
                kicks,
                trips,
                hits to the head
its messages
              conveyed
                    in the silence
              after
                     the scream.