The Nocking Point
It turned out the world wasn't half bad,
though the world wasn’t close to half-fair.
We threw rocks into the river to watch them sink.
Now, we're left with a quiver of poisoned arrows,
unsure that we’re ready for such a big stage.
We would rather be in love, but think we don't know how.
Let’s discuss the fate of poisoned arrows shot without aiming:
nearly invisible as they fly through the air;
nearly invisible as they find new homes.
Admit to wasting chances.
No lies, no promises, no presents, no mercy.
Discussion provides shape and meaning.
When your time is up, you can count on me
to relay your confessions, like so many poisoned arrows,
unaimed and without a target named.