Narrow the eyes downward. <br />Pupils strain for nobody. <br /> <br />Arrow, arrow, <br />shoot the sparrow. <br /> <br />Her stride is carelessly overbearing <br />each step beyond itself, <br />beyond the path. <br /> <br />Piercing dart in the wind <br />charge, charge <br />her sullen heart. <br /> <br />To the apple orchard <br />where full fruits rot, <br />she climbs. And I <br />just stand, <br />Think not. <br /> <br />Contain, contain <br />my quiver, again. <br /> <br />Flowerbed lullaby: <br />the apples hum, <br />the tulips side-by-side, <br />the mums. <br /> <br />And I pull back <br />I pull precise. <br />Whispered chanting: <br />Once, <br />Twice.<br /><br />Robert Whitehead<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/marked-2/
