Fall 1986 • Vol. VIII No. 4 Poetry |

Bellrope

The line through the hole in the dankvestibule ceiling ended ina powerful knot worn slick, swingingin the breeze from those passing. Halfan hour before service, UncleAllen pulled the call to worship,hauling down the rope like the startingcord of a motor, and the toweranswered and answered, fadingas the clapper lolled aside. I watchedhim before Sunday School heave onthe line as on a wellrope. Andthe wheel creaked up there as heavybuckets emptied out their startleand spread a cold splash to furthestcoves and hollows, then sucked the ropeback into the loft, leaving justthe knot within reach, trembling

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The line through the hole in the dankvestibule ceiling ended ina powerful knot worn slick, swingingin the breeze from those passing. Halfan hour before service, UncleAllen pulled the call to […]

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The line through the hole in the dankvestibule ceiling ended ina powerful knot worn slick, swingingin the breeze from those passing. Halfan hour before service, UncleAllen pulled the call to […]

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