So many torsos and only one pair of arms -
this is the world warrior's torment and belly-fire.
Do not flinch at his custard-coloured gi, and consent is presumed.
Are you ready for the fingerless gloves
in the small of your back, the tendons standing out in forearms,
the warmth of chest on chest as he grips you
in the shadow of the dying Buddha,
in the gale-stripped dojo at midnight,
on the banks of a swamp in the Brazilian rainforest,
wet decking croaking beneath your soles
as he squeezes, electricity flowing through your ribs,
as he whispers: 'Hey mate - I love you'?
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