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Daughter with a Star on Her Brow

Daughter with a Star on Her Brow DAUGHTER WITH A STAR ON HER BROW _ William Kelley Woolfitt July, 1905 Kasia murmurs to herself, zigzags from one side of the road to the other. She gives the neighbors a good look at her gangly frame, frazzle hair, fox eye. She brings water from the pump at the end of the road, the bucket filled only partway, all the better for the wasting of the morning. For avoiding that two-room shanty, the flies, the crumbs, dribbles of syrup, her mother in bed again with a wrung-out face and blanched skin and pumpkin belly. Give Kasia sun-scorch instead, and spruce branches, and the pigweed and nightshade vines choking the pump, and the seesawing of her arms as she works the pump handle, and the gurgle of water. These she loves, and the spooked shadows of the neighbor-girls fleeing. She knows they ridicule her. They cross to the other side of the road, yammering as if she can't listen to both them and her own muttering. Water for boiling the cabbage, water for scrubbing the floors, water for the baths of brothers and sisters, and for father. Idle these last three days, and still pinches of coal dust http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Daughter with a Star on Her Brow

Appalachian Review , Volume 41 (2) – Jun 16, 2013

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

DAUGHTER WITH A STAR ON HER BROW _ William Kelley Woolfitt July, 1905 Kasia murmurs to herself, zigzags from one side of the road to the other. She gives the neighbors a good look at her gangly frame, frazzle hair, fox eye. She brings water from the pump at the end of the road, the bucket filled only partway, all the better for the wasting of the morning. For avoiding that two-room shanty, the flies, the crumbs, dribbles of syrup, her mother in bed again with a wrung-out face and blanched skin and pumpkin belly. Give Kasia sun-scorch instead, and spruce branches, and the pigweed and nightshade vines choking the pump, and the seesawing of her arms as she works the pump handle, and the gurgle of water. These she loves, and the spooked shadows of the neighbor-girls fleeing. She knows they ridicule her. They cross to the other side of the road, yammering as if she can't listen to both them and her own muttering. Water for boiling the cabbage, water for scrubbing the floors, water for the baths of brothers and sisters, and for father. Idle these last three days, and still pinches of coal dust

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jun 16, 2013

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