A crew of us over lunch at Burge’s
hears Mary tell of college-day summers:
“I taught swimming and archery.” Urges
rise to say my weird mind envisions her
butterflying across Lake Ouachita,
bow and arrow scabbard strapped to her back,
when she spies a Great White, its jagged jaw
aimed toward her—dull, lifeless glaze of its black-
hole eyes twenty yards away. With no blink,
Mary kicks free from the water. Poised in
air like a dolphin, she strings the bow, links
the feathered notch, pulls, lets go, sends the thin
missile flying. It strikes the eye and punctures
the brain. The shark sinks to watery pastures.
Roger Armbrust
August 11, 2007
