Arrow by Beth Bachmann

Arrow

I lived and died like an animal.

If death by arrow, death by feather,

death by sweet spot.

Heel;

rise, red dog.

I see now what you’ve been sniffing:

wings.

What you’ve been licking:

all those bright, bright teeth.

You said, Angel.

I said, Anchor

dragging this body.

The way the sea is

the vein is.

The doctors advise,

Too late now;

you’ve got to live

with it in you.