| [an error occurred while processing this directive] |  |  |
 |  | |
| ||
| |||||||
| |||||||
|
| ||||||
| |||||||
| |||||||
 Contents | June 2001 In This Issue (Contributors) More poetry from The Atlantic Monthly. Also by Donald Hall: When the Young Husband ... (1993) The Wedding Couple (1996) Distressed Haiku (2000) |
The Razor
She sat in the boothby Donald Hall ..... across from him in shadow and her wide brown eyes softened and flared as she spoke remembering the sickly adored father of her girlhood— how she brought him tea and his newspaper; how she stood beside him while he shaved, her head as high as the washbowl, and lathered her face the way he did, and shaved using her forefinger as a Gillette Safety Razor. Her voice in an ardor of old tenderness lightened the darkness of the bar at midnight. She pigtailed his hair and in his room rubbed moisturizer from a jar to smooth his wrinkles.
Copyright © 2001 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; June 2001; The Razor; Volume 287, No. 6; page 78. | [an error occurred while processing this directive] | ||
|
Home |
Current Issue |
Back Issues |
Forum |
Site Guide |
Feedback |
Subscribe |
Search
| ||||
