Seven Arrows

World, divide me into sevens: Seas and sins and wonders,
and a number for my phone, taken from its place.

I memorize by heart. Send this blood from my center
to my outer edges. Here’s an arrow for my arm, the left,

my hand that writes and opens when I can stop
and listen. People speaking, people speaking!

And an arrow for my knee. I am kneeling, I am kneeling
And an arrow for my foot, my heel, the one I missed,

the one I hit, to tell a story someone else may want
to hear. Oh, the world divides me and divides me

into sevens in the morning when I take the seventh
arrow from my quiver, hiding below an edge

that’s frayed and waiting to be leveled—