his cardboard target
has no bullseye
the center has been
struck so many times
it’s worn away
all that’s left
is a patch of shadow
burrowed between
two bales of hay
that’s lost its taste
for arrows
his cardboard target
has no bullseye
the center has been
struck so many times
it’s worn away
all that’s left
is a patch of shadow
burrowed between
two bales of hay
that’s lost its taste
for arrows