A Steadiness of Hand

Found this poem in a notebook I was flipping through--written circa my junior year of college, I think. I'd completely forgotten about it, but I rather like it so I thought I'd share.

He steps back as I draw the bow,

left arm straight, right hand on the string.

I am still as windlessness at night.

I release.

In the edges of my sight,

his figure stills my hand,

stops my breath.

My arrow quivers

at the center of the mark.

He stills my hand.