by Marc Levy
He stepped to her with malice, grasped her arms and tugged her forward. Clawed hand at her throat, she pivoted rightward, flexed her hips, arched her back, flipped him head over heels, his free hand slapping the mat to break the fall. He rocked backward, kipped upright, adjusted his belt. She nodded. Tightened her ghi. “Again,” she said. “Ready?”
Marc Levy is a writer from Salem, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Litro, CounterPunch, New Millennium Writings, The Westchester Review, Panorama Travel Journal and elsewhere. It is forthcoming in The Rumpus. A war veteran, he has received two Pushcart nominations. His website is Medic in the Green Time.
