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And
I
've
watched
her
get
more
and
more
skillful
over
the
years
.
Practice
has
steadied
and
strengthened
her
until
now
she
wields
a
sure
power
that
extends
in
all
directions
on
hairlike
wires
too
small
for
anybody
's
eye
but
mine
;
I
see
her
sit
in
the
center
of
this
web
of
wires
like
a
watchful
robot
,
tend
her
network
with
mechanical
insect
skill
,
know
every
second
which
wire
runs
where
and
just
what
current
to
send
up
to
get
the
results
she
wants
.
I
was
an
electrician
's
assistant
in
training
camp
before
the
Army
shipped
me
to
Germany
and
I
had
some
electronics
in
my
year
in
college
is
how
I
learned
about
the
way
these
things
can
be
rigged
.
What
she
dreams
of
there
in
the
center
of
those
wires
is
a
world
of
precision
efficiency
and
tidiness
like
a
pocket
watch
with
a
glass
back
,
a
place
where
the
schedule
is
unbreakable
and
all
the
patients
who
are
n't
Outside
,
obedient
under
her
beam
,
are
wheelchair
Chronics
with
catheter
tubes
run
direct
from
every
pantleg
to
the
sewer
under
the
floor
.
Year
by
year
she
accumulates
her
ideal
staff
:
doctors
,
all
ages
and
types
,
come
and
rise
up
in
front
of
her
with
ideas
of
their
own
about
the
way
a
ward
should
be
run
,
some
with
backbone
enough
to
stand
behind
their
ideas
,
and
she
fixes
these
doctors
with
dry-ice
eyes
day
in
,
day
out
,
until
they
retreat
with
unnatural
chills
.
"
I
tell
you
I
do
n't
know
what
it
is
,
"
they
tell
the
guy
in
charge
of
personnel
.
"
Since
I
started
on
that
ward
with
that
woman
I
feel
like
my
veins
are
running
ammonia
.
I
shiver
all
the
time
,
my
kids
wo
n't
sit
in
my
lap
,
my
wife
wo
n't
sleep
with
me
.
I
insist
on
a
transfer
--
neurology
bin
,
the
alky
tank
,
pediatrics
,
I
just
do
n't
care
!
"
She
keeps
this
up
for
years
.
The
doctors
last
three
weeks
,
three
months
.
Until
she
finally
settles
for
a
little
man
with
a
big
wide
forehead
and
wide
jewly
cheeks
and
squeezed
narrow
across
his
tiny
eyes
like
he
once
wore
glasses
that
were
way
too
small
,
wore
them
for
so
long
they
crimped
his
face
in
the
middle
,
so
now
he
has
glasses
on
a
string
to
his
collar
button
;
they
teeter
on
the
purple
bridge
of
his
little
nose
and
they
are
always
slipping
one
side
or
the
other
so
he
'll
tip
his
head
when
he
talks
just
to
keep
his
glasses
level
.
That
's
her
doctor
.
Her
three
daytime
black
boys
she
acquires
after
more
years
of
testing
and
rejecting
thousands
.
They
come
at
her
in
a
long
black
row
of
sulky
,
big-nosed
masks
,
hating
her
and
her
chalk
doll
whiteness
from
the
first
look
they
get
.
She
appraises
them
and
their
hate
for
a
month
or
so
,
then
lets
them
go
because
they
do
n't
hate
enough
.
When
she
finally
gets
the
three
she
wants
--
gets
them
one
at
a
time
over
a
number
of
years
,
weaving
them
into
her
plan
and
her
network
--
she
's
damn
positive
they
hate
enough
to
be
capable
.
The
first
one
she
gets
five
years
after
I
been
on
the
ward
,
a
twisted
sinewy
dwarf
the
color
of
cold
asphalt
.
His
mother
was
raped
in
Georgia
while
his
papa
stood
by
tied
to
the
hot
iron
stove
with
plow
traces
,
blood
streaming
into
his
shoes
.
The
boy
watched
from
a
closet
,
five
years
old
and
squinting
his
eye
to
peep
out
the
crack
between
the
door
and
the
jamb
,
and
he
never
grew
an
inch
after
.
Now
his
eyelids
hang
loose
and
thin
from
his
brow
like
he
's
got
a
bat
perched
on
the
bridge
of
his
nose
.
Eyelids
like
thin
gray
leather
,
he
lifts
them
up
just
a
bit
whenever
a
new
white
man
comes
on
the
ward
,
peeks
out
from
under
them
and
studies
the
man
up
and
down
and
nods
just
once
like
he
's
oh
yes
made
positive
certain
of
something
he
was
already
sure
of
.
He
wanted
to
carry
a
sock
full
of
birdshot
when
he
first
came
on
the
job
,
to
work
the
patients
into
shape
,
but
she
told
him
they
did
n't
do
it
that
way
anymore
,
made
him
leave
the
sap
at
home
and
taught
him
her
own
technique
;
taught
him
not
to
show
his
hate
and
to
be
calm
and
wait
,
wait
for
a
little
advantage
,
a
little
slack
,
then
twist
the
rope
and
keep
the
pressure
steady
.
All
the
time
.
That
's
the
way
you
get
them
into
shape
,
she
taught
him
.
The
other
two
black
boys
come
two
years
later
,
coming
to
work
only
about
a
month
apart
and
both
looking
so
much
alike
I
think
she
had
a
replica
made
of
the
one
who
came
first
.
They
are
tall
and
sharp
and
bony
and
their
faces
are
chipped
into
expressions
that
never
change
,
like
flint
arrowheads
.
Their
eyes
come
to
points
.
If
you
brush
against
their
hair
it
rasps
the
hide
right
off
you
.
All
of
them
black
as
telephones
.
The
blacker
they
are
,
she
learned
from
that
long
dark
row
that
came
before
them
,
the
more
time
they
are
likely
to
devote
to
cleaning
and
scrubbing
and
keeping
the
ward
in
order
.
For
instance
,
all
three
of
these
boys
'
uniforms
are
always
spotless
as
snow
.
White
and
cold
and
stiff
as
her
own
.
All
three
wear
starched
snow-white
pants
and
white
shirts
with
metal
snaps
down
one
side
and
white
shoes
polished
like
ice
,
and
the
shoes
have
red
rubber
soles
silent
as
mice
up
and
down
the
hall
.
They
never
make
any
noise
when
they
move
.
They
materialize
in
different
parts
of
the
ward
every
time
a
patient
figures
to
check
himself
in
private
or
whisper
some
secret
to
another
guy
.
A
patient
'll
be
in
a
corner
all
by
himself
,
when
all
of
a
sudden
there
's
a
squeak
and
frost
forms
along
his
cheek
,
and
he
turns
in
that
direction
and
there
's
a
cold
stone
mask
floating
above
him
against
the
wall
.
He
just
sees
the
black
face
.
No
body
.
The
walls
are
white
as
the
white
suits
,
polished
clean
as
a
refrigerator
door
,
and
the
black
face
and
hands
seem
to
float
against
it
like
a
ghost
.
