The Punch

At the time of impact everything slows.
The face conforms to knuckles, accepts
the new arrival of bone on cheek,
flesh giving way to its sudden guest,
making room by collapsing in on itself.
A moment ago you were smiling at a joke
you told, not knowing this consummation
was at hand, and turned into the fist
like one might turn into a familiar room
where someone has built a new wall.
And yet you know, as the blow reaches
thought, no matter what lover limps
into your life, or how hard he presses
his solemn caresses, this
is as close as you’ll ever get to anyone.