Noose and Hook

Into the clearing of . . .

10 Into the clearing of . . . she climbed and stood up from the black boots of her blackouts into her body. The coat wept upon her shoulder, it hung upon her, a carcass heavy on a hook, and in the sockets of the buttonholes the buttons lolled and looked. As she climbed into that clearing it shook as it took her. A fever wrote the sentence and screwed it tight with ache and the long hair of the grass grew silvery and weak, lay greasily against the skull of dirt. emmanuel noose i-62.indd 10 1/4/10 4:31 PM 11 My mother was a figure armed with . . . and came toward me flew to me as though I were a sentence that must be mended, that must be broken, then ended, ended, ended. emmanuel noose i-62.indd 11 1/4/10 4:31 PM ...