DIDLSTone

= Traveling through the Dark = BY WILLIAM E. STAFFORD Traveling through the dark I found a deer  dead on the edge of the Wilson River road. It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:  that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead. By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car  and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;   she had stiffened already, almost cold. I dragged her off; she was large in the belly. My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—  her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,   alive, still, never to be born. Beside that mountain road I hesitated. The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;  under the hood purred the steady engine. I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;  around our group I could hear the wilderness listen. I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,  then pushed her over the edge into the river.

= Facing It = BY YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA

My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn't dammit: No tears. I'm stone. I'm flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way—the stone lets me go. I turn that way—I'm inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference. I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke. I touch the name Andrew Johnson; I see the booby trap's white flash. Names shimmer on a woman's blouse but when she walks away the names stay on the wall. Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's wings cutting across my stare. The sky. A plane in the sky. A white vet's image floats closer to me, then his pale eyes look through mine. I'm a window. He's lost his right arm inside the stone. In the black mirror a woman’s trying to erase names: No, she's brushing a boy's hair.



=** Chemistry Experiment **= BY BART EDELMAN

We listened intently to the professor, Followed each one of her instructions, Read through the textbook twice, Wore lab coats and safety goggles, Mixed the perfect chemical combinations In the proper amount and order. We thought we were a completely success. And then the flash of light, The loud, perplexing explosion, The black rope of smoke, Rising freely above our singed hair. Someone in another lab down the hallway Phoned the local fire department Which arrived lickety-split With the hazardous waste crew, And they assessed the accident, Deciding we were out of danger. It was the talk of the campus, For many weeks afterwords. We, However, became so disillusioned The we immediately dropped the course And slowly retreated from each other. The very idea we could have done More damage than we actually did-- Blown ourselves up and the building From the base of its foundation-- Shook us, like nothing had before. And even now, years later, When anyone still asks about you, I get this sick feeling in my stomach And wonder what really happened To all the elementary matter.



=** Latin Women Pray **= BY JUDITH ORTIZ

Latin women pray In incense sweet churches They pray in Spanish to an Anglo God with a Jewish heritage. And this great white father Imperturbable in his marble pedestal looks down upon his brown daughters votive candles shinning like lust in his all seeing eyes unmoved by their persistent prayers.

Yet year after year before his image they kneel Margarita Josefina Maria and Isabel all fervently hoping that if not omnipotent at least he be bilingual.



=** Sonnet for You, Familiar Famine **= BY JACK AGUEROS

Nobody's waiting for any apocalypse to meet you, Famine! We know you. There isn't a corner of our round world where you don't politely accompany someone to bed each night.

In some families, you're the only one sitting at the table when the dinner bell tolls. "He's not so bad," Say people who have plenty and easily tolerate you. They argue that small portions are good for us, and are just what we deserve. There's an activist side to you, Famine. You've been known to bring down governments, yet you never get any credit for your political reforms.

Don't make the mistake I used to make of thinking fat people are immune to Famine. Famine has this other ugly side. Famine knows that the more you eat the more you long. That side bears his other frightening name, Emptiness.