Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You and Your Team.

Learn More →

Six Poems for Tim, 1964-2004

Six Poems for Tim, 1964-2004 Janet Burroway Roadkill When I remember the call it is not the call I think of, that after all was a matter of fiber optics and cochlea, the drum, the hammer and all that not much understood nor wondered at. No. What I recall is a night in Sussex several years before, cutting it pretty close for the London train, Dolly driving, chatting of antiques, not a lot of traffic, just the narrow road curve after curve, hawthorn thicket dense hill after hill, and dark; when into the beam the badger leapt from claw to claw as long as the car was wide, haunch parallel to the road, the black eye slashed underneath in black, turning with seeming purpose to stare in mine, the drum beat just before the jolt to the underbelly rising in my bowels; the badger leaping, already surely dead, out of the beam to the dark on the other side. 21 We were hammered hard enough to skew us into oncoming traffic, but there was no traffic, only the country road winding downhill toward the London train already slowing into Lewes Station that would take me shaking to Victoria and parts unknown ­ no http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

Six Poems for Tim, 1964-2004

Prairie Schooner , Volume 80 (3)

Loading next page...
 
/lp/university-of-nebraska-press/six-poems-for-tim-1964-2004-nF1Ba7X5t8
Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2006 by the University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Janet Burroway Roadkill When I remember the call it is not the call I think of, that after all was a matter of fiber optics and cochlea, the drum, the hammer and all that not much understood nor wondered at. No. What I recall is a night in Sussex several years before, cutting it pretty close for the London train, Dolly driving, chatting of antiques, not a lot of traffic, just the narrow road curve after curve, hawthorn thicket dense hill after hill, and dark; when into the beam the badger leapt from claw to claw as long as the car was wide, haunch parallel to the road, the black eye slashed underneath in black, turning with seeming purpose to stare in mine, the drum beat just before the jolt to the underbelly rising in my bowels; the badger leaping, already surely dead, out of the beam to the dark on the other side. 21 We were hammered hard enough to skew us into oncoming traffic, but there was no traffic, only the country road winding downhill toward the London train already slowing into Lewes Station that would take me shaking to Victoria and parts unknown ­ no

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

There are no references for this article.