here in this fitness studio basement
an underground coven of women
hemmed in by blow-up attackers
sick of living in fear
here, we learn all the ways to break
those who would break us
a question of when, not if
in this land of the free
where 98% of assailants walk
knowing we cannot rely on others
that fights may be forced upon us
and technique can trump size
we transform our bodies
from targets to weapons
we harden ourselves like armour
poised like coiled springs
we defend and offend
deploying an elaborate dance
of jabs, hooks and strikes
to aim for tender flesh
drawing from such deep wells of anger
cries echo across the room
and though this muscle memory
could one day save my life
violence is so embedded
in this practice
i cannot help but think
we are fighting fire with fire
i long for a world where i can
cast off this mantle of fear
break out of my fight stance
and relax into softness