by Bob Mundle

Created on: February 15, 2011

You had me in your sight at anchor point,

with that damned bow and arrow!

I heard the clicker, saw the bolt head my way,

felt the shaft hit my chest.

My hands were waving truce

as my body surrendered; falling

backwards, the air coursing through my hair

flaying, not controlling, where I was landing.

As I fell, I saw you closing in, your chubby grin

alight: so many flites still in your quiver!

Above my closing eyes; you were muttering

‘Good hit: bag it, move on to number three.’

You shot the heart right out of me;

and now my love is stuffed and displayed

for all to see, forever, in one of your show cases -

labelled: Just another of Cupid’s trophies.

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