Issue 16
Toss
B. A. Goodjohn
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Pooh Darts
When Uncle Ernie baby-sits, Mum says we're to do Fuzzy Felts or Spirograph
until bedtime. But we don't.
Uncle Ernie's like Trampus off The Virginian. He doesn't ride a horse or
wear a hat or anything, but he walks like a cowboy and he's braver than
anyone I know. Even my Dad.
He says John Wayne never did Fuzzy Felts. Instead, he takes us up to the big
hill behind the woods. Up there, the grass is as sharp as wire. Sometimes,
when it's windy, I can't hear anything. If I open my mouth, the wind gets
in, and I feel like there's a train in my chest. I can't speak. It's like I
swallowed God.
Uncle Ernie plays Pooh Darts, but only if we promise not to tell. Me
and Dorothy sit with our mouths open, and he tosses rabbit pooh at us. The
one who catches the most in her mouth wins. Dorothy spits hers out, but I
pack mine in my cheeks with my tongue. When I win, it makes Uncle Ernie
laugh.
I like it when he laughs. It's how people laugh on the telly, but he's
sitting right next to you.
~B. A. Goodjohn
B. A. Goodjohn, originally from the UK, now resides in Forest, Virginia. Her work has appeared or is due to appear in The Texas Review, The Cortland Review, flashquake, The Hiss Quarterly, Wind Magazine and other journals. Email. Website.
© 2004 by B. A. Goodjohn. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2004 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.