SOMETHING IN THE GRASS

5 4 Y S O M E T H I N G I N T H E G R A S S K N U T E S K I N N E R She is kicking at something in the grass, grass halfway up to her knees nearly, knees no doubt as coarse as her bare elbows. Add a few years and she is my mother out in the yard kicking spirits away as she feeds the chickens. Passing, I try not to stare, but I take in a dirty-blonde head and a worn shirt open at a scrawny neck. Beyond, I give her the crazed eyes that dog me from life to life. ...