Mud an interpretation of "Joy of Her World" by Kevin A. Williams On the barn's rough skin, it's a spider-coffin cradle for a young dirt-dauber. I would have thatched your arm with it had you lived to be stung. What your eyes would have become had they seen the world. Old Miss Talcum, she rejuvenates with it. Says, "It's what all good Christians is made of," and says it just that way, like words and I have never met. Makes me think of that back road night, those boys chasing him and me. How he was too smart, losing them along the creek. How good it felt between my toes. Things you won't, ever, know. That other time, in town, at the sculpting school, posing on a stool for money. And that tall one said I was the perfect shade. I sometimes wonder, would like to see what he made of his smile and his words, if he's a true man. It's useful for all sorts of things; even keeps wind out of this old cabin some days, but it's the wrong thing for a grave. I told him, but he's out there, now, uprooting the garden with his hands. Making you the best home he can. by Lafayette Wattles