Sally’s Summer Job
In the truck the first day
Russ laughed at the twist of her face
When he told her,
“Just count ‘em now. Soon,
you’ll know ‘em.”
In the cabin that night she puked.
Wind smacked her face, it burned a little
From the cold as
Tarmac blurred by, each stone
A line
Connecting with the next by motion and speed.
“I see one!”
The lines drew slow apart,
Got rougher until they were pebbles again.
“Beaver, skunk, possum, squirrel!”
He could tell
Just scraps, and he’d know and yell
Its name
“Look girl, it’s big
and brown,
it’s head, a curve behind the ears.
No doubt a coon.”
Leather with hair,
Stretched out in a strange pattern
Not even bones to tell, just
Colored skin and bristles
“Beaver!”
“No, girl.
Possum.”
A week.
Her hair streaked back
From wind again,
Eyes glued to the blacktop trail.
“Russ look it’s big!”
The road rolled by.
“A badger No a beaver!
Wait, its tail is small…
A coon!”
He smiled?
Only a twitch of his bearded lips
But nonetheless
Approval for the naming
Of a dead animal.
by Natasha Escalada-Westland
Copyright © 2010 Natasha Escalada-Westland
