Arrowhead
       

To understanding the word enemy, imagine

The buffalo grazing while listening

For the stir of men approaching

The hill, sharpened flint in their palms

Each of them, ready to die for the same

Thing: the hush of a limestone cave,

The rise and fall of sinking creeks.

You can almost understand killing

For your home because it's a place

That claims you and calls you

Back. But what about the arrowhead?

Instrument in hand, the buffalo

Never stood a chance. Tiny monster

Just when you think you know what

To expect, there lies the incredible

Surprise waiting for you to cross its path.

Tweet
Copyright © 2015 Tasha Cotter All rights reserved
from Barn Owl Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission