Stories? Here’s one: a Quinter girl, orphaned at birth
trails the thresher crew, naps under the cottonwoods,
awakens to crows and baskets of sandwiches.
In the wheat field haze of a winnowing fan
she reaches for the wind, draws back a stub.
The difficulty of living is in her stars:
she would be a nurse but marries an inventor
of flying machines, car coolers, and nightmare nights.
Through decades of drought and ominous weather
she feels each stab to the end of every finger.
— Pamela Yenser