"Within days summer was over. One morning we heard
the sound of airplanes and the next day too, then several days after. The
droning of the planes soon became familiar in the early days of that autumn.
Nobody knew what the lumbering planes were doing, except that everyone would
feel like they had just walked out into a drizzle and felt a dampness on their
faces. Everywhere it was damp. The thatch roofs were wet, the hammocks were wet
and leaves began to fall, suddenly browned and withered, not the brown or red
of autumnal leaves, and the grass yellowed like in drought. Then we learned
about those C-123 planes and the chemicals they sprayed on the forest. The
spray fell like mist, wetting the leaves, and the air smelled tart. On the
morning we woke and saw a giant canopy of the forest cleared away; the mountain
showed through as if the forest had moved overnight toward it. On that day
Ian’s red-stem spinach died."
2014 Winter Issue
(Available for Purchase)
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