In Heber Springs

you photographed andromeda from the backyard as
the waves lapped against your legs and drenched
your jean cuffs through

the next morning you held my hand to hoist me to the top of
a viewpoint where we could see for miles splitting a sandwich among low level clouds

I thought if I could fall in love it would be here
next to you and the changing trees leaves rustling red and
golden like the sands

we drew our fingers across antiques and crystals lining little
shops in town greeted with smiles nearly as bright as stars living in your memory card

we come here for respite and roosters and leave with more
a sense of time freezing and speeding to the good parts
in just a year

you will bring me back to this same cabin and trod along
these same rocks and I will thank the universe for Arkansas and you in one breath

By: Savannah S. Miller

Savannah S. Miller (she/her) is a queer and disabled writer across genre and form. Her work has been published with Jelly Bucket, Modern Language Studies, Watershed Review, and others. She is the author of the poetry collection Route 460 (Red Rook Press). Her play The House will receive its world premiere production in 2026. AB: Dartmouth College (2021); MFA: Augsburg University (2025). Read more at savannahsmiller.com.