Academic journal article The Hudson Review


Academic journal article The Hudson Review


Article excerpt

Whenever I drive west

to the farmers' market, I see the mountain

rising beyond the highway, and I think again

of the three-year-old last summer, falling

from the cliff. His father

had turned away only for a moment

and then looked back-the sunny path was empty.

And down below who knows

what he saw first: a bluejacket?

a blond head? Or maybe just the kudzu

taking over. There was no one to call

out to or send for help. Finally a ranger

spotted the the father clambering down the rocks

but reached the boy too late.

Now it's fall again, and the car radio

brings news of the latest bombing

in Iraq. I see it in immediate

detail: the cheerful crowds

of shoppers and busy vendors, bright displays

of vegetables and fruit. Then

mayhem: a car rigged with explosives

rolling toward them,

the bodies of the blameless

ripped apart. …

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