Nocking by Jeff Gallagher
In taking position to draw the bow
the heels are seven to eight inches apart
with both feet firm on the ground
yet easy and springy, not rigid.
The apprentice archer presents himself
ready to follow instructions: sadly
he thinks of the shaft striking its target
and not the precision of its flight.
So we must now grip the bow string
at the same time grasping the arrow,
holding eyes and breath in union
with the hands. This is called nocking.
He has mastered the appropriate stance
like a child playing soldiers or cowboys:
but stranded on nocking, uncertainly
still he curses his clumsy fingers.
Crecy and Agincourt pass him by.
A boy’s head can safely carry an apple.
For he is still nocking, still puzzling
how to shoot his wild aim true.
He is still nocking. This process
is manipulating the bow string,
gripping firmly, but not so firm
as to make the fingers awkward.
Where others fire a fine anger
of fletched and sharpened phrases,
he is still nocking, while no one sees
his well turned words fall short.
Yet he is still nocking, still working towards
that one release that will send a shaft
to prick the pompous, puncture pride,
pin down the elusive metaphor.
Like a boy who cannot catch a ball
or a stand up comic with a stammer,
he strives with his keen, straight aim
and continues to fail better.
But if at his death he is nocking still
and has no words left in his quiver,
then lay aside his bow and arrow:
fetch the rifle, the hand grenade.
“Nocking is the art of stringing a bow. None of Penelope’s suitors could string Odysseus’ bow. Only Odysseus could do that. But it didn’t stop them trying. Maybe this one got rejected because I keep telling people I’m not going to give up sending them stuff. I’m going to keep on trying till I get it right. Then maybe I’ll get to kill off my rivals and show them who’s the daddy. Meanwhile I’ve tried to string that bow nine times, and failed.”