Django, and: Of the Pleasures Which May Be Discovered in Books, 1902

DJANGO / Lola Haskins In the middle of the night he arrives with his pülow. He cUmbs between us, and slowly his shivers die. He heard the leaves move in the yard, a step at a time. This is what we Uve for, you and I. This private moment when he settles into our breathing and we are three birds on one dark sweU, a Ufetime from any land we knew. 176 · The Missouri Review OF THE PLEASURES WHICH MAY BE DISCOVERED IN BOOKS, 1902 / Lola Haskins Sometimes in the long afternoons when the Ught goes slowly slant into the evening, I think I shaU go mad. I stand at the window with its stiff velvet fringe. Behind me, Aunt Jane is cross-stitching my name in handkerchiefs. The window seems about to speak. What wiU it say? That no lady goes caUing without cards? That a lady must yearn only for an upright man? That I am no lady? WUl it whisper scandals against my name which daUy grows in Unens, to Uve at the bottoms of drawers? "You are unoccupied my dear" says Aunt Jane. "Read to me a whUe." I hate the color black. Why must she wear shrouds. I open the book. In the garden a moustached man is waiting. His amused Ups mock every word I say. The Missouri Review · 277 ...