In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

 Burning Back Once I was a girl with a truck and a tackle box full of jigs and treble hooks. We sat on my tailgate to watch pasture scorch, and he traced my bones—hip, thigh, shin. I cross the county line at dusk, drive west past silos toward that thick rope of smoke. It is spring and time for prairie to burn. So I pull off, get out to breathe in April and to watch tallgrass swept to char. Each blade the fire takes will return richer still. I stand at this edge of fallow field, and the swells blaze yellow, then red. Like a brittle weed I want to know again the prairie’s need to burn and burn. ...

Share