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DocuSign Envelope ID: DED368CC-D87F-4704-8F64-B8F2DB10EE93 <br /> 'Guessing the Direction of the Eye,' Folio, Spring 2011 <br /> Guessin the Direction of the Eye <br /> Most of us want to believe in ythology, <br /> or some kind of god with a preference for women <br /> swimming in lakes.Or at least the patron saint of weather <br /> less turbulent Somewhere nearby, <br /> men put boats to hopeful anchor,and barges clang <br /> like cymbals beneath ash-green clouds. <br /> Even the trees sway like they know what's coming. <br /> But these numb hands are just tying ladders to fences <br /> again.Seasonal obligations keep the wrong objects <br /> from flying.Once, when my mother and I drove home <br /> from,Mississippi, we came over the bridge, <br /> our city like a map of light beneath us. <br /> Maim, she said, this is such a pretty city <br /> to come home to. What's pretty becomes pretty <br /> when Mother sys so. Men dangle in the air <br /> holding electrical cords, stringing poles together <br /> that broke in last week's tropical storm. <br /> But today, a hurricane strengthens in the Gulf of Mexico, <br /> stand still in the yard when birds ke flight. <br /> My father hammers boards against the windows <br /> again,hollers, for a handful of nails. <br /> In the middle of a temporary calm, <br /> a phone call from a friend who says, <br /> Katie,there doesn't have to be such struggle. <br /> I ask if he remembers the girl on a porch, <br /> another child Eudora Welty turned into a photo, <br /> as if this answers his questions about my marriage <br /> ending a few months into another storm season. <br /> !continued' <br /> K. B. Young 4 <br />