Little Arrows

Lately
I have been practicing
shooting
little arrows.

My bones have been feeling
like a pencil, hollowed;
a tube
without the lead
running the length of it.
I have been pushing
large stones
through the park;
most are the size
of Volkswagens.
I have been killing
time
tearing pages from books;
using the covers as birds.
Lately
I have
been swatting flies
with a broad spatula;
saving them, storing
them in the kitchen sink.
I have been speaking
to my grandma
recently;
she is dead.
I have been walking,
throwing forward
my feet,
as on a tight rope wire;
I can’t afford
new shoes
or the price of falling.

Lately
I have been practicing
shooting
little arrows.

December 2005