Cartoonish Recoil
- Ana Portillo
- Oct 12
- 1 min read
Eyes trained in front of me through the net,
waiting for the downbeat.
Imagine a punchbag recoil
and now you’ve seen me,
flung backwards.
My glasses frame exploded inward,
the metal digging into me.The glass had the mercy
not to bend and shatter.
Didn’t notice til it healed in a straight line
like someone had raked their nail across the bridge of my nose.
I was bleeding straight,
the copper frame bridge shoved into my skin
like strangers elbowing into each other
when the train jolts to a stop.
But I didn’t think to check
if I was bleeding at all.
Image credit to Harrod Sport.
