Op/Ed
Letter to the editor: A poetic take on recent racist incident at Bread Loaf
My Fellow Bread Loafers
Unlikely you’ve read or heard
yet. There are sheets, inscribed.
Hanging from the Inn’s deck.
Nailed to an Annex post.
One, across the field, waving
from Tamarack.
Painted red and black.
I’m guessing you can imagine
what it refers to.
Pushing back, the phrase goes,
to what a local yelled.
From his pick-up truck.
At a mother and her children.
Sitting on a blanket.
By what appears to be the cottage,
Fritz. Where families stay.
Faculty and other summer workers.
Living here. July and August.
When the mountain becomes a school
again. A Writers’ Conference.
A place to sit and talk in the storied
Barn. Walk, behind it, to the pond.
Where you won’t remember any
Keep Out signs. And just one raft
to drift on. Near the newly water-
falling dam. The newts swim
away from. Wanting to live
where they can in the winter-saving,
mud. When the ice comes.
As Frost might have said. All year round.
Liking to make up lies for us
to live by. Knowing how cruel
we can be. When what we mean
is love.
Gary Margolis, Cornwall
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