Slugged

Slugged

I had a meeting with a friend, or so I thought,

Until he slugged me in the gut.

It wasn’t much of a blow at all.

He hardly raised his voice in squall

Nor coiled his fist into a ball.

His smack was subtle, it seemed to me.

Yet left me breathlessly out to sea.

In all honest recollection

I anticipated blows and consternation

And tightened my gut and clenched my jaw

And spoke sparingly withal,

To save my strength for perseverance

Of gut-crunching interference.

It went about as planned.

Friendships friends be damned.

The Bible makes a claim or two

That should not be forgotten.

If the Bible’s claims are true

Then not all punchings are rotten.

Faithful are the wounds of a friend,

The kisses of an enemy, deceitful.

If friends that wound are faithful,
Then why is my friend hateful?