Pale Morning Dun

Pale Morning Dun PALE MORNING DUN / Richard Dokey THAT EVENING WE crawled under the fence and looked at the house where old man Fario had died. Wooden slats were branches were dead on the wülow tree. naUed over the windows and the front door was padlocked. The grass was brown Uke the weeds along the road. Some of the "What do you think?" I asked. Jerry looked at me and smUed. "No problem." He found a stick, broke it in half, put one piece between his teeth and handed me the other. We sUthered forward on our belUes Uke Chuck Norris in the movie playing at the Bijou in Livingston. We got across the dead grass, past the wUlow tree, and Jerry held up a hand. I stopped, bit down on the combat knife, my ear cocked against the sounds of the jungle. "What is it?" I said. "I heard something." The wind came up from the meadow where the stream ran. It Ufted the American flag old man Fario always kept poking from the house. The stripes roUed, turned over and fell limp, like a wide red and white fly line. Something in the roof creaked. remember. The somber http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

Pale Morning Dun

The Missouri Review, Volume 16 (2) – Oct 5, 1993

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

PALE MORNING DUN / Richard Dokey THAT EVENING WE crawled under the fence and looked at the house where old man Fario had died. Wooden slats were branches were dead on the wülow tree. naUed over the windows and the front door was padlocked. The grass was brown Uke the weeds along the road. Some of the "What do you think?" I asked. Jerry looked at me and smUed. "No problem." He found a stick, broke it in half, put one piece between his teeth and handed me the other. We sUthered forward on our belUes Uke Chuck Norris in the movie playing at the Bijou in Livingston. We got across the dead grass, past the wUlow tree, and Jerry held up a hand. I stopped, bit down on the combat knife, my ear cocked against the sounds of the jungle. "What is it?" I said. "I heard something." The wind came up from the meadow where the stream ran. It Ufted the American flag old man Fario always kept poking from the house. The stripes roUed, turned over and fell limp, like a wide red and white fly line. Something in the roof creaked. remember. The somber

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 1993

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