in return, they cheer each blow
a cache of moves - stolen or inspired
by wiles of beasts that stalk and strike
and recoil, like smoke from a smothered fire .
His hands are like an angry vice -
that clutches a foe like the jaws of death
and swirls him once, twice or thrice....
until his soul rebukes the heart that dared.
Not known for brains but brawn -
the wrestler shuns the library door
you'd catch him often in a brawl
astride his foe upon the floor.
By
Hope Kalé Ewusi ©
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