AFTER THE FIRST BLOW
by Sándor
Kányádi
don’t you worry about the trickle
let the blood form rivulets once
it sprang a leak
let it wash out a ravine on your
face to proclaim
the place where whacks and kicks
are welcome
it’s much too late now
the blood-red flags of shame
should have been
flown much earlier and from
inside
