A Single Arrow’s Curse

Streaming through the tattered blinds
Cascading down the sheets
The sunlight of a winter morning
Cupid’s eyes did meet

His breath a reek of cigarettes
And alcoholic fumes
His wings a loose dishevelment
Of Alabaster plumes

He lifted up his heavy head
To greet the day begun
While coughing up obscenities
And curses at the sun

He searched upon his tables for
A token to describe
The cocktails and the whiskies
And the spirits he’d imbibed

“Alas” he spoke in sullen tone
“My witnesses above
Another night of disregard
For those who fall in love”

For there within his quiver were
His arrows straight and true
But where before there had been three
There now were only two

To harbour for eternity
A fate could not be worse
The infinite affliction of a
Single Arrow’s Curse

“Upon my word” he spoke aloud
“What mischief have I wrought?
For now a man shall seek his love
Where none there should be sought.”

~Andrew Muir, Dec 3, 2008