he was felled not by a bullet
but a flanged arrow piece crafed not from metal
yet begat of wood and fletched by birds
those at home in the jungle
it stilled him and his eyes focused nowhere
like a zombie as do the dead with no mission before them
he was buried in the water as if at some primordial baptism
his friend crafting him into the deep swollen belly of the river
and he did not rise
and he did not speak again
Flynnpoetry 