ARROW

ARROW

was shooting arrows
picking my spot
missing everything

out
of inspiration

maybe need you
to act as
my target

strike
statuesque poses

but there again
your speed of thought,
                                 your
blinding beauty
                     bound
to dazzle
     spoil my aim

get me
          to aim
                        too high, perhaps
too low

shooting arrows
tipped with love potion
threatening
your equilibrium with
potent
    erotic poison

and yet
        calling my bluff
with contempt so openly,
dare I say
nakedly?

you caught freeze-frame
striving to catch them
as they
    whizz by

wonder where you might
keep it
    if you managed to catch one

pluck it, so to speak,
from the sky

my best guess
telling me

in a silk-lined box somewhere,
casket
   close to your heart

not to
rule out
    heavy return fire
streaming in from your
redoubt
   
hit me
    palpably and yet
just a
flesh wound

to get
   full flavour possible to have
to stick it
     in deeper, extremities
of joy and pain
as, desire
running rampant, I much
            mortify myself

out in the open
        no chance of lovely
assassin here
pulling back her bow-string, silent
in the forest

shooting
    at small, small, dodgy
creatures
I warrant mostly
mammals

once hit a
goddess (bit of
spectacular misfortune)

she
   returning fire, shooting
from the hip

hit me
fair and square with
that selfsame dart

and there
I fell

in her arms, mortally
struck, wounded forever
slain
   by
         Athena, Ishtar, Isis,
Aphrodite
perhaps Artemis herself

done in by a goddess,
best, worst
kind of death