Split Shaft Second contact is Furtive, crisp, a sudden flash. Forced eye to eye, soul to soul, Long enough for the archer's gaze To sight the target. The fabric of myself is wrung and twisted. Wracked by emotion, I'm Perched on the edge of our bed, Weak in the knees. Weakness gathers. Tears travel the lines on my palms Leaving bitter deposits to corrode fate. Rusted nails, driven into the corners Stretch my many folds flat. Exposing the bull's-eye to Memory's whispers, fluttering at the edges. Helpless and pinned, the surface shivers. Eros grins, sly and fluid. Increasing the tension, He draws feathers to cheek, ready to release Cupid's Arrow. Desperately I think to blink or look away Ere a second shaft can split the first.