the beating


The first blow caught me sideways, my jaw Shifted. The second beat my skull against my Brain. I raised my arm against the third, Downward my wrist fell crooked. But the sliding Flood of sense across the ribs caught in My lungs. I fell for a long time, One knee bending. The fourth blow balanced me. I doubled at the kick against my belly. The fifth was light. I hardly felt the Sting. And down, breaking against my side, my Thighs, my head. My eyes burst closed, my Mouth the thick blood curds move through. There Were no more lights. I was flying. The Wind, the place I lay, the silence. My call came to a groan. Hands touched My wrist. Disappeared. Something fell over me. Now this white room tortures my eye. The bed too soft to hold my breath, Slung in plaster, caged in wood. Shapes surround me. No blow! No blow! They only ask the thing I turn Inside the black ball of my mind, The one white thought.