into a spring storm, calling like my nana
with an arrowhead stuck at the back of her mouth;
she feels it catch every time she speaks.
she buckles her neck around the pain.
how long can one man elude winter?
go on while I rest, he said, and
she flew south without him.
now she remembers she lost something.
Theodore! she calls through vernal rain,
point of an arrowhead crying across the sky,
looking, looking, looking.