Poem – Old Arrow


like an old arrow through my eye

I think of you

                                    recover

 

and turn it into a kid’s arrow

with a rubber suction cup tip

 

place it on my forehead

spit coated to stick and hold

as if I could hold you now

 

you’re in motion somewhere else

colliding and laughing

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Author: William J. Gibson

62 year old - writer/photographer Canadian, survived open heart surgery, received kidney transplant, sometimes dour, sometimes amusing, over six feet in height, severely follicle challemged

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