Punchbag

I am thinking of funding my own private study

into the percentages of women who,

after being sexually assaulted

take up martial arts. 
Every time the bones in my ankles

twinge and protest from their times spent in unfamiliar places

or my wrists crack when rotated 

or my knuckles become clenched shells and the balls of my feet are ready –
the uppercut crunches like a ball in a socket

like a fist in the stomach like the

string of his teeth in my pocket until

I rattle and dance like a box full of presents, yes


breathe through my nose – I am ready

take hold of my wrists – I am ready

make a leash of my hair – I am ready
I am ready I am ready come and get me I am ready I am
mottle-throated, copper-coated

lying bloated

in a Seoul motel room

with a black tongue, foreign press and no I.D


I am relieved that, in hindsight 

I didn’t yet know 

how to fight.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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