explaining the mottled bruise of my elbow

this was probably not my best

i cradle the icepack 
in the curve of my elbow, 
tender skin gone 
angry red and cringe-worthy purple

i realize i should view this as a regret. 
but goddamnit, all i can remember is the
near-silent release of the bowstring

and i mean, honestly. 
it was two days where i forgot to wear an armguard
and had some problems remembering how to 
pull my elbow in so i didn't hyperextend it
and hit the skin with my bowstring

obviously, that didn't work. 

yes, it hurt like a b-tch, 
but i think it was worth it - 

there's nothing quite like the 
breath, draw, pause, release, sigh. 
my draw weight's 18 pounds, 
heavy but goddamn i can handle it

relax your shoulders, 
pull your elbow in, 
hook your fingers in properly, 
nock your arrow, 

all of a sudden, your bowstring's 
twinging back into place
and your arm is lowering, 
fingers sliding to rest beneath your ear, 
and i am at peace. 

there's nothing that can compare
to the satisfying sound of an arrow
burying itself in the target - 
a mix between thud and thwack 

and i would not give
this addiction up for the world

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed