Girl in a Country Scene by Nathan Slinker In the iron trough—lone remnant of the sheep that once grazed here—a thin sheet of ice covers molasses, and a girl, because no one has told her of a better use for hands, breaks it. In the next gasp of light, as some sweet history dissolves on her tongue, she finds herself walking where long afternoons of barbed wire dream of letting whole herds loose, and a gang of lazy clouds hangs around the corner store of mountains, feeling at empty blue pockets. In a few hours or years, her mother will call her in to help set the table, help father with the tomato cages, help father with the rolling over, fetch the priest a cup of coffee, empty the family jar of tears. But now, she lets the scattered sunlight remove her shoes, barely trembles as she sews seconds into breached flesh: making the moment live in her. Now, frost only sweetens broken wheat; wind blows through her skin as if through a damp sheet. And this must be the bright winter of her childhood: a long time will pass before cold feels so good again. 6 theMeadow
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