The Fight
He said she was jabbing.
She thought she was holding back.
And she was...she must have been;
there was so much tension, like
the tension in the
string
that arcs the bow
drawn by the three strong fingers
of her favored hand,
with the weight
of the arrow
all in the tip. The rest,
just a breath from the quiver, full
of enough arrows for one bull's eye.
