Absence is always too soon for someone. Standing at the door, discussing fat peonies on the porch or leftovers boxed to carry home, the body remains among the things it knew. While there outside, already in the car, tired of making small talk, the mind is waiting, leaning on the horn. This lengthy last discussion disturbs those who remain behind, still busy with the party. "Just go or stay," we whisper to each other, wink-grimacing our disapproval. Such fragmentation disrupts our practiced tales of war and marriage told with brandy and that second piece of cake. |
Kake Huck |
Death Picks Up my Aunt, Huldah Bell |
The Peralta Press |
