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The Perique: (The Most Strongly Flavored of All Tobaccos)

The Perique: (The Most Strongly Flavored of All Tobaccos) THE PERIQUE (THE MOST STRONGLY FLAVORED OF ALL TOBACCOS) _ Frank X Walker For Wanda Marie when her husband threw his back out --the day before the big move my sister grabbed the other end of the mattress and everything else I coaxed from the back of the truck with the dexterity of a tobacco cutter doing the work of two ignoring my caution and her fatigue she reminded me she was made of the old stuff --the same stuff as our mother and almost all the Warners born and raised in the burley fields of Washington county her nostrils flared and I saw it, burning slow her scowl, a cellulose filter, squinting to adjust her own tar and nicotine just like the night she stood toe to toe with mamma defiant, obstinate, declaring herself grown --too grown for any more ass whuppings, refusing to duck or flinch each attempt to beat her back into a little girl's box when that last slap struck something iron her nostrils were the only evidence of the size of the bellows she held in check flat on her back, beneath undefended flailing she shot me a look that made me throw http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

The Perique: (The Most Strongly Flavored of All Tobaccos)

Appalachian Review , Volume 41 (3) – Sep 5, 2013

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

THE PERIQUE (THE MOST STRONGLY FLAVORED OF ALL TOBACCOS) _ Frank X Walker For Wanda Marie when her husband threw his back out --the day before the big move my sister grabbed the other end of the mattress and everything else I coaxed from the back of the truck with the dexterity of a tobacco cutter doing the work of two ignoring my caution and her fatigue she reminded me she was made of the old stuff --the same stuff as our mother and almost all the Warners born and raised in the burley fields of Washington county her nostrils flared and I saw it, burning slow her scowl, a cellulose filter, squinting to adjust her own tar and nicotine just like the night she stood toe to toe with mamma defiant, obstinate, declaring herself grown --too grown for any more ass whuppings, refusing to duck or flinch each attempt to beat her back into a little girl's box when that last slap struck something iron her nostrils were the only evidence of the size of the bellows she held in check flat on her back, beneath undefended flailing she shot me a look that made me throw

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Sep 5, 2013

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