Sighted Blind Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Sighted Blind



My dog was hurt; he couldn't hunt,
and left me in the field

To wander into aimlessness,
my prey as yet to yield

His nose was gone; the point was lost,
the tracks turned right then wrong

My gun recocked but sighted blind
—all certainty had gone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,2019)

Wednesday, April 10, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: hunting
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