The Barter, and: Bang, and: Beautiful Night

The Barter, and: Bang, and: Beautiful Night Reading Sartre by the Creek Not an S, more like a furious scribble, that cottonmouth charging me. Wet-black, thick whip cleaving creek-side grass and horseweed in harsh whispers. Wild thrash of body. Wide ghost of mouth. I've dreamt this, a snake attacking, woke worried what it could mean. But now, the snake real, I grin at each strike and miss, at speed, quick as pain travels through flesh, grin at how the day's suddenly filled with a sureness: no debate what I should do; no mystery of its intent. And the why: a rock bass shines on the bank, fat and deadly flat. Lisa Linsalata The Barter Right after the rape I went hunting for Phil, this drug dealer I'd known from before, on Beacon Hill, where I'd lived in a place with no shades and cockroaches that trolled my mouth till I learned to sleep with it shut. His windows looked in on mine, across cement gardens. First time he came over he gave me a bundle of joints and a wooden recorder. 86 He said he'd seen me through the windows would I like to get high and ride his Harley. A biker with a black http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

The Barter, and: Bang, and: Beautiful Night

Prairie Schooner, Volume 83 (2) – Jun 25, 2009

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Reading Sartre by the Creek Not an S, more like a furious scribble, that cottonmouth charging me. Wet-black, thick whip cleaving creek-side grass and horseweed in harsh whispers. Wild thrash of body. Wide ghost of mouth. I've dreamt this, a snake attacking, woke worried what it could mean. But now, the snake real, I grin at each strike and miss, at speed, quick as pain travels through flesh, grin at how the day's suddenly filled with a sureness: no debate what I should do; no mystery of its intent. And the why: a rock bass shines on the bank, fat and deadly flat. Lisa Linsalata The Barter Right after the rape I went hunting for Phil, this drug dealer I'd known from before, on Beacon Hill, where I'd lived in a place with no shades and cockroaches that trolled my mouth till I learned to sleep with it shut. His windows looked in on mine, across cement gardens. First time he came over he gave me a bundle of joints and a wooden recorder. 86 He said he'd seen me through the windows would I like to get high and ride his Harley. A biker with a black

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Jun 25, 2009

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