Because my instinct is to punch
“¨to keep arm’s length”¨
while yours is to hug close
Ҭwhich for a boxer means safety
Ҭand for a wrestler means takedown.
ҬI have no technique for bodyӬ
slams, no low center of gravity,
Ҭmy strength is my arms shoulders
Ҭwrists knuckles, my strength in myӬ
fearless slams against a wall. See—
“¨even there—I am too careful
Ҭwith my skeleton to have ever sought
Ҭa singlet, a blue plastic mat, and
ҬI use walls instead, ropes, gloves.
ҬBut I let you tackle me, buck-eyedӬ
in Santa Monica ferris wheel lights
Ҭin front of the crash of ocean that
Ҭslowly, slowly laps away stoneӬ
mountains, even though the firstӬ
sideways takedown whiplashed
Ҭmy neck and I never learnedӬ
how to fall, because somehowӬ
I knew how you’d hold me”¨
against your heartӬ
(after the fourth time)Ӭ
and how I’d let you.

Nice! I like this – specific, detailed, not too abstractly metaphorical.