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

40 the minnesota review Elizabeth McLagan Folding Poem How can a single word - outrage, for instance - recall a drive through a small town in a stucco and neon afternoon smelling of onions? Was I leaving? was I driving east or west? and why has this scene flashed back from the universe of what-might-be where I have stepped sideways into a life where a man in a pickup truck has my father's hands, scarred by a drill press, no wedding ring. In acres of flat fields. A silence like growing. Bulbs underground, adding their milky layers, translucent skins of forgetting. A man I once loved told me the only trouble with me was me. I am half in the life where he was right, half in the life where I cannot remember him. In every scene there are starlings, which in this country are despised and lovely in their imitations of singing. ...

pdf

Additional Information

ISSN
2157-4189
Print ISSN
0026-5667
Pages
p. 40
Launched on MUSE
2011-07-06
Open Access
No
Back To Top

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Without cookies your experience may not be seamless.