In Fact

In Fact

In Fact

In Fact

Excerpt

Now mist takes the hemlocks and nothing
stirs. This is a gray-green and a
glassy thing and nothing stirs. A plane
to or from Newark burrs down idling on
its flaps or grinds full-rich up its
airy grade, and I hear it. Mrs. Levy calls
her kids and I hear her. A train eight
blocks away rolls and I hear it. And
tire sounds. And a car door closing
dully. And a whole helluva caterwaul
when Richard hits Benn again and Benn does
stir. He comes running. And I hear it.
And then the phone rings and, carefully,
I do not hear it. I am listening selectively.

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