Jesmyn Ward
Scribner
I cough into the blanket, partly from the smell of Mam dying, partly from knowing that she dying; it catches in the back of my throat and I know it’s a sob, but my face is in the sheets and nobody can see me cry… “She [Leonie] hates me,” I say. “No, she love you. She don’t know how to show it. And her love for herself and her love for Michael—well, it gets in the way. It confuse her.” I wipe my eyes on the sheets by shaking my head and look up… Mam’s looking at me straight on...“You ain’t never going to have that problem.” from Sing, Unburied, Sing |