A Question to Ask Once the Honeymoon Is Over

A Question to Ask Once the Honeymoon Is Over JESSICA JACOBS Big around as my bike helmet and high as my ankle, the bo x turtle was halfway from my side of the r oad to the other. The warm sun felt delicio us; my legs, strong, and it was alm ost to the center line. I hadn’t been passed by a c ar for miles. Figuring if it was still there, I’d pic k it up on the way back, I cycled past. Years before , the woman across the street was shaped like tha t turtle, or more like a toadstool, really, sq uat bell of a body atop the thin stalks of her legs, milky a nd bare beneath her frayed black housedress. It hurt her to mo ve—clear even from my second-story window—so she bro ught her trash out in increments, in small, bur sting grocery bags. She tossed each out the door onto the po rch, then nudged them, one step to the next, before easing—ca refully, painfully—herself down, a step at a time. Then she toed t hem, finally, slowly, slowly into a crumpled heap at the curb . I left my window to help; then took her trash out every we http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

A Question to Ask Once the Honeymoon Is Over

Manoa, Volume 31 (1) – May 10, 2019

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x

Abstract

JESSICA JACOBS Big around as my bike helmet and high as my ankle, the bo x turtle was halfway from my side of the r oad to the other. The warm sun felt delicio us; my legs, strong, and it was alm ost to the center line. I hadn’t been passed by a c ar for miles. Figuring if it was still there, I’d pic k it up on the way back, I cycled past. Years before , the woman across the street was shaped like tha t turtle, or more like a toadstool, really, sq uat bell of a body atop the thin stalks of her legs, milky a nd bare beneath her frayed black housedress. It hurt her to mo ve—clear even from my second-story window—so she bro ught her trash out in increments, in small, bur sting grocery bags. She tossed each out the door onto the po rch, then nudged them, one step to the next, before easing—ca refully, painfully—herself down, a step at a time. Then she toed t hem, finally, slowly, slowly into a crumpled heap at the curb . I left my window to help; then took her trash out every we

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: May 10, 2019

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