Legend in the Making

[Miki Yamuri]

Legend in the Making

Twelve archers talking until the first split.
Then the room folded inward around the sound.
River‑cane arrows, raptor‑feather fletch,
a hickory bow that knew my name.
One shot,
then another,
then another — twenty three times it flies on the wings of a butterfly
each one carving the same thin line through the night air.
By the time the last shaft cracked, no one breathed.
They weren’t watching me shoot.
They were watching the shot shoot itself.
Out of 24 shots 23 shattered the last intact as proof
one full brace, all but one splinters, the room in shock