the wreck of the "anselm"

2
University of Northern Iowa The Wreck of the "Anselm" Author(s): Anselm Hollo Source: The North American Review, Vol. 253, No. 5 (Sep. - Oct., 1968), p. 36 Published by: University of Northern Iowa Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25116852 . Accessed: 13/06/2014 00:42 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. . University of Northern Iowa is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The North American Review. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 91.229.229.44 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 00:42:18 AM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

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Page 1: The Wreck of the "Anselm"

University of Northern Iowa

The Wreck of the "Anselm"Author(s): Anselm HolloSource: The North American Review, Vol. 253, No. 5 (Sep. - Oct., 1968), p. 36Published by: University of Northern IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25116852 .

Accessed: 13/06/2014 00:42

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

University of Northern Iowa is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The NorthAmerican Review.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 91.229.229.44 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 00:42:18 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Page 2: The Wreck of the "Anselm"

THE WRECK OF THE "ANSELM

"it became clear to him

that

it got very dark and the cartridge stuck in the

flare gun the instruction manual lay soaking in the bilge

the pages stuck together

what to do now

anyway he knew it wouldn't have said

what to do when stuck in a barrel

becalmed at sea

stuck it became clear to him

that was the word

in his throat

Anselm Hollo

ANSELM HOLLO, born in "Finland, now makes his home

on the Isle of Wight off England. SHe is currently teaching in the "Writers Workshop at The "University of Iowa. Tie is

widely-published both as poet and translator.

around her and the other on her knee?and it was as

though David were eavesdropping or peeping through a keyhole at total strangers who did not know and

did not care that he existed. David wanted to intrude, to ask about the pain and apologize of his own free

will before she demanded it, but something about the

jerky uneveness of the ride caused him to turn toward

Dessie. Her right leg looked stiff, and her foot was

twitching on the accelerator. David reached toward

the dashboard; his hand struck the glove compartment button, and the door dropped, striking his knee. He

shut the door without looking at it; Dessie was begin

ning to twitch in the shouders, and her fingers were

becoming rigid. "You have a spell, and Grandmother'll fire you, sure

as shootin," he whispered. She did not answer, did not seem to hear as her

foot pressed heavier on the pedal, and her eyes grew

large and set on some distant object. "Dessie? Dessie,

Dessie," he said, his voice getting a little louder each

time. He looked back to see if the strange driving had

bothered them, wondering if he should tell them of

Dessie's erratic behavior and have the Judge stop the

car until Dessie recovered. Grandmother Brooks was

smiling into the Judge's face, her lips out for a kiss; David closed his eyes and turned, sniffing, thinking disgustedly: I'll just let them find it out for themselves.

"David," Grandmother Brooks called softly, as if she were far away. "David, we're going to adopt you. Carl

has never had a son, and you're going to be our son."

Of course, he could not upset them now with tattling on Dessie. He looked ahead, then up; fireflies were

lighting up the sky, and there was one star, with long points, like the one that shone on Bethlehem. Son,

they really mean it, he thought; and his heart was like Ma Steven's old clock, tock-tocking, and then sudden

ly it was buzzing like the alarm before dawn. Dessie was slumped at the wheel, and a truck with blazing headlights was turning the curve, its lights reeling drunkenly, its horn blasting holes into the gray earth.

David was never certain whether he clutched the door handle to brace himself or whether he struck it acci

dentally. He was catapulted into a dark, wet space, a

far, unknown region that closed around him almost before the words THANK YOU could become un

frozen.

5(5 The North American Review

This content downloaded from 91.229.229.44 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 00:42:18 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions