that you don't want
back, create a target
then refuse yourself
any means of reaching
it. You stare at it,
target stares back.
A moment hangs
in the still air. Maybe
it's raining, this wet
thing your face becomes.
Nothing happens, nothing
changes; nothing is done
or over. Everything hangs
like a moment in between
non-thought and inaction.
Still- there is you, the target,
the rain, if that's what it is;
a battle that hasn't been
fought again & yet lost again
if that's what it really was.
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