The Arrow


An arrow that left its bow in the Middle Ages
was still in orbit round and round the
earth not having found its target
flying straight ahead in the throes of Zeno’s
Paradox in time and space
its dark feathers intact

passing over the heads of us all and
looking down as it speeds past

thinking to itself “How sad they’ve become
with their bombs and technology

We’d shoot to kill and then it’s done
bad enough but nothing like

what they do now at the
flick of a switch

8/20/05 (from In the Realm of Neither)

Categories: Poems