Number 9, March 1999 IN THIS ISSUE... Dawn over Boggy Creek Road by Patricia Akhimie Ladies of the Road by Peter Ravenscroft Highway 9, 26 West by Richard Johnston Dogs by Tristan Snell

I. HIGHWAY 9 Back of a night crawler stand north of Boiling Springs, his eyes hardened to quartz and turned me around. Bracing myself against a damp trunk, I heard him loosen his belt, the tapered head that slapped every loop, drumroll for a slow hanging. Surely against me he is turned, I whispered to a red-tailed hawk perched high in the pine. The first stroke tasted like moss. Fathers on this side pay you back triple. II. 26 WEST Dad, we were a little drunk coming home from Columbia. You rolled the night back so I could sketch our constellations: Testikles and his knotted club, south of Patruus Major clutching a horse. Father, let me kiss you, this for Baptist dogwoods we scorched firing rockets, for fifty-cent pieces lined up to shoot. This for your father's blood and scotch, for all your brothers and sons did in woodsheds and fields, behind barns, for everything I've claimed as our music. --Richard Johnston