Page 32 - Contrast1962v6n1

hated me, an' all I could think of was, if she really hated me, who,
would she have tastin' samples of her cookies, an' pies, an' jellies, an'
crackers, an' bread, an' cake, an' .... Well, gettin' back to her, she-
asked me again where IT was so I kinda asked her again where
WHAT was. Then she gave me a horrible smile an' said if I wanted
to I could play tricks on 01' folks, but she'd get me back. So I kinda
gave up the idea of ever tastin' her cookin' again, an' I came back
here to try to find out just what else was in my pockets .... I wonder
what Mom would say now if she could see the grapes she wanted me
to eat a couple of weeks ago?

still life

by bruce knautJ

There he sat.
The leafy gum sufficed as shade
From a hostile sun.
On the slightly-moist, majestically-displayed
Grass he sat. A late spring day,
Gallantly arrayed, enclosed him there
As he sat, back to tree, very still.
Overhead, a crow in flight;
On his shoe, a grasshopper.
Up above him, among the leaves,
Sang the tree-toads, spiteful, free.

And in a country across the sea,
A little sister asked, "Mommy, when
Will Stevie write a letter to us'!"
The impatient answer: "Honey, I don't know."

The fellow didn't move from beside the gum.
He just sat there, expressionless, dumb,
His pale hands plunged in the dirt,
The blood having dried which had soaked his shirt.
His hardly-used carbine lay at his feet.

30