Forgiveness

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Forgiveness Author(s): Karen Mitchell Source: Callaloo, Vol. 14, No. 2 (Spring, 1991), p. 339 Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2931630 . Accessed: 14/06/2014 03:03 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. . The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Callaloo. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 195.34.79.223 on Sat, 14 Jun 2014 03:03:48 AM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Transcript of Forgiveness

Page 1: Forgiveness

ForgivenessAuthor(s): Karen MitchellSource: Callaloo, Vol. 14, No. 2 (Spring, 1991), p. 339Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2931630 .

Accessed: 14/06/2014 03:03

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

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The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access toCallaloo.

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Page 2: Forgiveness

FORGIVENESS

He heard that she had drowned, candles lit, sonata on pause, soap floating from one end to another, a vagabond in water. He knew there wouldn't be anyone to hear her heeltaps announce that she had reached the mirror, then turned to see her hair unravel like a rope being thrown from a window. He didn't linger; she didn't relax, but kept shoving the dirt away from the sucking, the groans of some child bewitched in an underwater cave.... When he took his bath, he read his wife's letters, telling her she could do better. A five-year contract. The university that kept writing to her like a boy proposing. She wouldn't write back, and so he had to warn her, tell her that she had to be the girl with just one wish because he knew how men were with a woman who declared her birth as Paris. So when he heard that she had died, he told those French-speaking morticians to be ready to call the police after they had drained her body and saw that her blood had been nothing but poison.

Callaloo 14.2 (1991) 339

This content downloaded from 195.34.79.223 on Sat, 14 Jun 2014 03:03:48 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions