No Target. Still Shootin’.
Poem by R.J. Bevans
A something snapped in my efferent neck sunaptein.
My heady, blood-lubbin’ sparks,
Up-in the marked vein on the jugular left,
Hurtme a half-hand down my vertical throat.
This current that charged then charged!
The isolated, instant “ow! ”
Realized without my permission. Not okay.
But irksome, zee-literal, potent jerk.
Comments about No Target. Still Shootin’. by R.J. Bevans
Edgar Allan Poe
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.