The Dart Game

This is the second of the bar poems. I spent many hours playing darts and hope I have captured some of the intensity. You need to know the language of the game

The Dart Game

By Henry David Rosso

Challenge the board!
You're on.
The slick, slim shaft, barrel and point are withdrawn
From the leather case with care.
The feather-light flights are attached.
The shaft is tightened against the barrel.
The point is sharpened with a small square of sandpaper.
The challenge is met.
Cricket?
Cricket.
Points?
Of course.
Cork.
The first shot of the game, to determine who goes first.
The silver steel and plastic tail head toward the center
Hoping for a dead center.
Close.
But not too close.
Nothing to do but watch your opponent.
She lets fly and hits dead center.
She can hit cork.
It's bad news.
She goes first.
Toe on the line
Eyeball the target
Cock the arm
Feel the balance
Adjust
Don't rush
Stroke toward the goal
Pull back
Stroke again
Fire
Twenty-four grams of steel and plastic
Fly silently and swiftly toward the board
The point finds its mark with a dull thunk.
Two more times the process is repeated.
Cold steel hitting compressed paper under the glare
For all to see
The point kisses the outer ring
Almost as a teaser
Each shot that misses its mark is like foreplay
It's your turn
She intimidated you with the first shot.
But she bolstered your confidence with the next two.
Now you get to stroke and probe
Hoping to reach the ultimate goal.
Anticipation.
Fingers close around the tiny steel shaft
Flights twirl in readiness
The steel flies.
Close. So close.
Adjust
Shoot
There, it's in
Do it again.
Cock
Aim
Shoot.
It's there again.
Back and forth the game progresses
Arms cocked
Eyes squint
Heart stops
Steel parts air and strikes with a thud
Concentration mounts
Careless shots
Followed by more disciplined shots
This time it will be true
This time it will hit the mark
This time you will go ahead
Hold the lead
Watch your opponent
She's staying close
Keen eye travels down the arm
The wrist
The fingers
Across the space to the target bathed in light
Arm back, cocked
Fingers tighten
Forward, let it fly
Steel flies through the air to the target
Thud.
It's there.
Make another mark.
A slash
An X
A circle
Spectators gather to watch
The match is close
A challenge to the board
Sides are chosen.
The steel splits the air again
A cry of ecstasy.
The mark has been made
Another turn
Spectators eye the players
Players eye the board
Steel flies.
Thud
Point
Good dart
Smile momentarily replaces frown of concentration
Steel flies
A gasp
The game is at its determining point
Smile fades
Replaced with frown of concentration
Arm cocks
Eye travels down arm
To wrist
To fingers
To target across the space
Dart arm rocks back and forth
Body leans across the line
Arm cocks back and lets go
Steel flies across the air
Thud.
Cork!
The game is won.
Smiles replace frowns
But only for a short while
The board has been challenged.
The game starts anew
The victory is a thing of the past
New game
Set the rules
Cricket?
Cricket
Points?
Of course
Shoot cork
The victory only counted for one game
It only mattered for a moment
Memory can never repeat the thrill of the moment
It is time for new thrills
New victories
New challenges
Steel flies through the air
Thud.
A miss.
Your turn.
We can only try.