The sturdy wood protrudes from my shoulder,
My fingertips trace the engraved cylinder
As my eyebrows come together in confusion.

The moon cries,
It’s tears sweeping into the cracks of the cement.
The sliver words shine in the light,
My eyes ache as it stings my eyes.

It reads words of condolences,
Listing lies and regrets,
Ones that have not occurred yet.

I curled my hand around the bark
And pull out the arrow.

I see why they are sorry now.
My knees are cushioned in the soft grass,
My shoulder contrasted this pleasant comfort.

You shot me with your apologies,
Knowing what would happen if I would not accept them.

But now your quiver is empty,
No more apologies sink into my skin.
For the job is finished.