Fist Poem

Some people are changing
the world,
dropping their pens
to make a fist.

Some people are
writing poems to change the world,
poems
built around a fist.

Uncontained
in this fat block of words
is anything as wholesome
as a soul-solid righteous
punch in the jaw:

oh, I was clenching my fist
as I wrote it,
I could see that target jaw,
just one of so many…
but then I saw

that while I too have a fist and a pen
it’s an aimless fist
and an empty pen.

I wanted to punch this poem
for being
unconvicted!
For draining my pen
and opening my hand.  I told myself
coward,
has been…

but you know, it’s morning
and the warriors will be home soon.
Maybe this is exactly
what they will want
when they get here.