The Probable Aftermath of a Fistfight by M. Drew Williams
I’ll hobble into the foothills
to stand half-blind in the lilted dark
above the draw, looking out
over the valley where
I was birthed and brought up.
Later, in bed, my lover’s finger
will circle the bruises on my back,
each drummed violently into being—
She might compare them
to islands or flat blueberries.
In the coming days, I’ll examine
the bathroom mirror,
and notice my swollen eye
fume from bright indigo to violet,
fringed lastly with yellow before
fading back to light beige.
For the next year, I’ll keep out
of bars, and take better care
when conversing with large men,
mainly those baring neck tattoos
of the names of ex-wives
or portraits of childhood pets.
But right now— drunk enough
to do something careless—
I weave to avoid an oncoming jab,
and begin punching back.
M. Drew Williams currently lives in Omaha, Nebraska. His poetry has appeared in, or is forthcoming from, publications such as The Stonecoast Review, DIALOGIST, and Riprap Literary Journal. He is the author of the chapbook No Ghost Goes Unnoticed (Leaf Garden Press, 2016). He is an MFA candidate at Creighton University.