![]() Father: star anise, boiled in broth for soup. It was the job for the type of man who he had wished could have pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, put the weight of his hands on to usher him into bed, the kind that told stories for sleep that could have held truth, the playful kind of truth that balances delicately between what is lived and seen and what could be. It was a job for a respected and trusted man. It was a job he found most responsible, most rewarding, most dignifying. To look inside the mouths of others and dig out all the devils. Another sign he reasoned that something evil had made its way inside of him. He vomited his fear, which tasted like communion bread and wine. Something nasty grow, take root, yuh’ve got to dig it out, with your bare hands if necessary. In bed that night, Irving put three fingers into his mouth and clawed at his tongue. Me tink some of his wires got crossed, somewhere along da way, Irving had overheard her saying to a woman from church. She said nothing more and didn’t say much more to him ever again. But that’s left to you and God, that’s where I leave you,” his mother said to him after he finished explaining. “Someting nasty grow, take root, yuh’ve got to dig it out, with your bare hands if necessary. His trepidation tasting stale: breakfast cereal left in the cupboard too long. Irving explained this to his mother as best as he could. Church, like scotch bonnet pepper sliced, sautéed with onions, scallion, and callaloo served on plates that displayed dancing hummingbirds somewhere above the sea. Words like “fuzz” made an itch, a tingle, stalks of wild grass planted in the pit of his stomach. ![]() Antihistamine: bitter, metallic, like licking the rim of a car. ![]() Words like “comfort”: plum, just almost overripe. He could not quite recall the exact age at which he shared this with her, but he knew it was of a time where there was comfort to sit at a mother’s lap. Irving Campbell told only his mother when he began to taste his words. The taste of words formed at the back of the tongue were swallowed and digested when spoken. She wore her best church hat, and her scented powder had the essence of melon. When he graduated from the University of the West Indies, his mother attended the ceremony. To take part in live conversations, you must be a current Book Club and/or Poetry Book Club subscriber.)ĪNNUAL MEMBERS ONLY: One free, bonus month of the member-only newsletterįor additional information, visit our Membership page /membership/.Ĭurrent Members: Need to update your Membership info (email, payment information, etc.)? Click on My Account to log in and make any updates you may need.Irving Campbell became a dentist. ![]() (A member-only promo code we’ll be emailed to you within 1 day of joining at the Annual level. Our endless gratitude and the warm fuzzies from knowing you’re supporting one of the first and last independent lit mags aroundĪNNUAL MEMBERS ONLY: 20% off Rumpus merch after sign up (does not apply to book clubs or letters programs)ĪNNUAL MEMBERS ONLY: Access to a private Submittable portal for members where you can submit your work year-roundĪNNUAL MEMBERS ONLY: Access to select author/editor archived conversations via Rumpus Crowdcast. Notes from the EiC and guest posts from some of our favorite writers Įarly News: be first to hear about calls for submissions, Rumpus events, and other opportunitiesĮxclusive Rumpus Content: newsletter-only essays, Q&As, and advice from our editors Join today and you’ll receive: A twice monthly members-only newsletter containing. Monthly and Annual Memberships available. Become an inaugural Rumpus member! Support our writers and help us continue publishing.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |