my first hands with arrowhead made pentagram under hood of daddy’s truck.  then in dirt.  then tree.  he was in tree when I got there and stayed there for what I carved.  not looking up I stayed there too until the next thing which was mom bullhorning me out the window of the truck.  I could see myself running to the truck and to my mom but it was just a vision.  instead I moved to make the tree to where daddy was but I took my eyes off of him and he went.  my mom’s way of seeing had her finding me in no time and she coaxed me with the arrowhead I’d dropped.  she took me home to my brother and put our three spoons in oven.  three the count of times she’d heard me say ****.  I didn’t then and told myself I’d never curse a fourth.  when the pan was taken from oven by brother he took one for himself and winked and for the other two mom pled her milk.