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Ra TTLESNa KE Hu NTINg IN a NSTED Out on overlapping layers of new-fallen autumn in West Virginia, I’m pursuing him I was taught to see as the ambassador of evil. If I were out here blowing bubbles to mirror dead-leaf colors or searching the cluttered forest for mushrooms, I’d have a different sense, but I seek the tapering end of malevolence, so the muscular weight of fear squirms in my belly. For a long time I thought any wind over this littered floor to be his hissing. I have no faith left that says serpents may be handled, but I have the longest forked stick I could whittle, the thickest burlap sack, the heaviest clothes and the thickest boots. Each step into brush- wood, I feel him recoil from my desire to make him into belt, gloves, something less. RON HOu CHIN
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Apr 17, 2014
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