by Jennifer Harrison

photo by Erin Blinn

She feels him watching her,
this short, thick-bellied, bulky-shouldered man.
He is an observer for the week.

He sits with fiddling hands on the wooden bench lining the mat.
The dried blood-streaked, blood-dripped mat.

She heard him tell Sensei that he is an international student
at the university. Thick Arabic accent.
Quiet. Cautious. Respectful distance from people.

She—the 5’5, slender female, the only female in classes that week—
positions herself in a low squat,
tightens a 180-pound man against her back,
and then tucks her head toward her legs,
throwing the man off her shoulder.

The observer’s eyes widen. He shifts his weight.
Seems to smile
but then wipes the grin with his hand.
Lowers his head. Eyes averted.

She partners up with the largest man in classes.
230 pounds. 6’2.
After positioning herself for the shoulder throw,
she looks at the observer, sees that he is watching,
his forehead wrinkled, arms crossed.

She throws the big man. He lands with a “thud,”
lands hard on that dried blood-spotted mat.

With a smirk, she glances at the observer.
He doesn’t conceal his smile.