For Coretta King We'd always swum out too far to hear what we was shouting... When we saw you standing on the sand without him; when we saw you raise and cup your hands around your mouth; when we heard your first cries like pebbles rattling in our veins, our legs and arms stopped. Already fish have found us; poke our pale and bloated bellies as if we were crusts of bread. Copyright (c) 2000 by Douglas Eichhorn << index >> |