Last Arrow

I        cease mid-stride, detect a noise, I shiver
In        my armor, send a prayer: forgive this
Sin        . Before I see, I hear it, sense its
           
Sing    -ing speed. A flame lands in my liver,
Sting      -ing, burning, wood sent by
String        through the fortress’s stone slits.
           
Staring    at the line, I feel my quiver,
Starting    to aim at the thread-thin target—
Startling    even me, I see it hits.

Daniel Galef

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Daniel Galef would be pleased to hear them.