Bowmen

forever land

in middleville

sells the weapons

in flimsy recycled

cardboard boxes

the bow is all

repurposed plastic

made to look like wood

the taut string is

nylon-a-mile-away

from animal gut

the two arrows

included with the bow

end in a plum

of cloth and foam and fluff

more than safe enough

but when would precaution

a mother’s admonitions

ever stop these boys from being

the lords of archers

they’re five

the age you count

on the fingers of one hand

their imaginations

yet unstrung

hunting in

their fenced backyard

for the grumpy old brown grizzly

one hundred times their size

who lives behind the laurels

waiting on the deck

for the parade of

velociraptors to shriek

across the lawn

the ancient beasts

have just showed up

from the cretaceous

on turkey legs

with feathered backs

and oversized ferocious jaws

to play