Abstract
Lying in a Hammock David Roderick (bio) Why not let my daughters tossrocks over the shed while birds bickerand dart through my wraparound mood? The girls remindme that wonderful means "full of wonder,"and that no tech company will ever simulatewhat's happening in my nerves right now—the swig from a flask tucked in my shirt,the kid-squeals and birds obsessed with winter.Only an asshole would think I'm wastingmy life swaddled inside this hammockmaybe a bit too close to the compost pile,the lawn shouting [End Page 153] its mown and strewn greens.I lie here as a soul-in-training smelling deepthe raked-up dead stuff from our cellar wells,with the slaughter of July's sunlightin my daughters' hair. It's just about ice cream time.With these last few minutes, I could read the newsor scroll through my phone, but it's probably betterto just lie here sipping the flavors of duskas a father to enchantment and brother to the void,while joy and two hearty oaks suspend me throughthis soft, middle stretch of my life—letting the lightstrop my throat while a finch on a limb abovehomes in on her home. [End Page 154] David Roderick David Roderick is the author of Blue Colonial (APR/Copper Canyon, 2006) and The Americans (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2014). He lives in Berkeley, Calif., where he codirects Left Margin LIT, a creative writing center and work space for writers. Copyright © 2020 Emerson College
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