imagine: aquiver

a folding knife
for his pocket

he kept it sharp

open
close

open
close

he threw it
back first

he threw it
point outwards

he threw
while he was moving

his target
a close pattern
of small slits
from practice hours

and practice hours

a folding knife
open
in his hand

a stabbing motion
into the air
before him
as he imagines a quick …

like a showdown
in a Mexican movie

take that
Cisco

he imagines
his knife
embedded

aquiver

~

Poem #330 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

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