Closed Line

So many things I can’t control
Your speed, your
Laser-guided point
My paltry set of skills

I can at least
Set this one factor constant
Nail it to the wall:
My quarter four is closed
Shuttered, barred and inaccessible
Don’t even think
Of trying to assault that line

Except, of course
You do
Because that’s where you end
By force of habit
Preference and practice
You’re so very sure at the last moment
I will waiver, flinch and
Open up a little bit
A crack, enough that slender blade
Slips through

Except, of course
I don’t
And so your weapon meets a
Solid line of steel
In effect, you’re parrying yourself
And I need just riposte
Supreme efficiency

(Damn funny, too)

A lesson here to take into the world
Sometimes all you need is sovereign confidence in one sure thing