in the eye
till the lid closes into a slit
colored black and blue
swollen like a tennis ball
so, my eyeglasses do not fit
but he'll not take me down a whit

He can punch me
in the mouth
give me a big fat lip
knock my teeth out north and south
but he'll not crack me with drouth
on my radar he's a blip

He can punch me
in the gut
till my innards are mashed potatoes
and the blood clots like squashed tomatoes
into a sauce
it's his loss