Hunting in the Dark

Blake noticed diat Arch had lost a little of his long-studied coldness . Surprising what a balm it is to see one's own name in print, he diought. Why, Arch had even spoken to him again, freely, widiout apparent strain. Well, after all, diey were co-editors! "What made you give up on writing fiction?" he asked one day. "Oh, I haven't given up entirely," Blake answered. "How can you find the time . . . ?" "Have to. To keep in step, I mean." Hunting in the Dark It's late. Outside the dog barks hope of danger. If I do not go out to him, scratch his head and change his water, he will end by howling to die moon, pretending better days, nights of rut, and masters whose sharp teeth would rip diatproffered neck. Instead I remain widiin, conjuring my own dark night run, knowing I have never hunted in such pleasure but blunt-toothed club my prey to death widi words and body-burdened limp to die least promise of co-mingling. In anodier time perhaps I too screamed to die moon before breath was torn from my constricted diroat. MICHELE BARALE Michèle Barale is a graduate student in English at the University of Colorado, Boulder. 38JUST GETTING IN STEP ...