The Arrow

By Kevin Clothier

Tonight I think of an arrow,
A lone slender shaft loosed
by an anonymous hand,
launched to crease a widening sky
bringing slight body to space.
Fullness in reserve.
Arc of intention thrown up to split
the cobalt fountain of stars
with its rapier nose.
A fashioned bone,
blue backed and splayed.
Tail of a dream wrested
from quivers of sleep
Tonight I think of an arrow,
I think of the stars,
I think of the hand –
the hand is yours.