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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 4, December 2012


Glenn G. Coats
Prospect, Virginia, U.S.A.

Seeds and Stems (Again)

My mother is sipping coffee in the kitchen when I come downstairs. Her good morning is measured and I can tell she has something on her mind. I pour a cup and pull up a chair across from her.

“I presume this is yours,” she says and lays a plastic bag on the table. I can see in an instant that the bag contains marijuana. “I found it wrapped inside your varsity sweater.”

I tell my mother that the parcel is mine and that I am keeping it until the prohibition is over. She accepts what I say and passes it over to me and we go on to talk of other things.

That night, I perch with my friends on a boulder beside the South Branch. We try out the contents of my mother’s package and study the twisting currents and listen to trains off in the distance. “Your sister hid this stuff where?” one of my friends asks. He is laughing and choking at the same time.

moonlit tracks
branches drag
from a bumper

train whistle
something passing
something gone

Author's Note: The title is taken from a song by Commander Cody, recorded on the album “Lost in the Ozone” in 1971.



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