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9 Epiphany Stick So many years erased between the premise and the end, who knows what cowlicked misdemeanors set her off? All I remember is my mother blaming me with a broomhandle behind the knees, the epiphany stick, until I swept the screen door down, lightfoot in the gravel, in the dead-end street, one of the charged as guilty, howling at the air atremble with the terrible swift coming of her wand, whose hard sorcery would beat true behavior into wrongful boys— for which I now put down these lines, keeping them straight and narrow, while love still whales away at the frightened crimes of childhood. ...

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