Academic journal article Transnational Literature

Machine Gun Women, or They Mist Black Trees in Wet Walking

Academic journal article Transnational Literature

Machine Gun Women, or They Mist Black Trees in Wet Walking

Article excerpt

Black-

black outline of the horizon

a black silhouette of trees

against a watercolor red,

violet,

milky,

pink sky

with a few stars scattered sparsely about

a thick mist.

One,

two,

three,

four stars arching overhead.

Damp and wet trees,

water droplets from the leaves.

The occasional sound of machine guns blaring somewhere in the distance the sound of an airplane moaning overhead

Sixty seconds.

Walking

creaking steps crushing the stones

passing by dead leaves on thin stalks,

hanging damp and wet.

A crunch and the shadow and the mist

light

a stillness and a silence

a bunch

of wet leaves.

Water dropping.

A general silence.

No one is there.

The four of them

walking

quietly

worriedly.

The sounds of other people who are not there.

A certain fearsomeness about circumstance

trailed by their own shadows

under a moonless night

where the light is only the deep,

red,

violet firmament over the horizon of black,

naked branches

and trees

stretching somewhere.

They're walking

and trudging. …

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