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THE ROAD-GANG IS SERVED SUPPER AT A COUNTRY INN / Steve Kronen In the kitchen mutton churns in the stew. BasU dries from a string in the corner. The convicts place their chins upon their blue Shirts and mutter thanks. And now Mary has torn her Skirt on a naU-head that juts out of The cabinet, meant for the hanging of towels, And so when she carries, balanced above Each shoulder, the heaped and steaming bowls Of food, her skirt flaps behind her Uke a flag Above a beautiful and happy kingdom. Outside, the world thickens in the slow drag Of slanting Ught, whUe far away peals The radiating beU of a church. Some Men stare and Usten. Others eat their meals. The Missouri Review ยท 152 ...

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