SUNDAY JUDY CONCERTO AFTERNOON SHAUNA the On | the At | on lie mu beside quilt in rest and fading lines of white sunlight on of A\nd the bits of A\nd the oneness heat and laughter pass In of the days bLefore-- no in life s suspended for waiting the yesterday, or rest-- Sunday afternoon tomorrow. THE MOMENT JUDY RUTHSTROM Derhaps Or | yesterday only Y esteday Ax perfumed is all | inexistant. possess, Now, a sensual Soon gone a in the alr. today--so is always Tomorrow Today it. is a yearning-- slightly Now happened dreamed moment in perfumed inexistance is a feeling--| ve of realitu; yesterday, of tomorrow. Leen wall. silence. drowsy laughter heat, knew ls unreal gaze reverie which While bed. TUG silken remember here before. Even now, thirteen years later, Nathan Green could remember the first time he had seen the piano, In his mind he associated that piano with a certain tone in his mother’s voice. Her milk-smooth voice grew quietly haughty with a skimmed tempered pride whenever she said anything in connection with it. Nathan first heard that tone of his mother’s when he was seven. Nathan had stood in the center of the parlor watching the gray-clad men carry the baby grand piano to the alcove. Even in the watery grayness of the April day, he could see the luster and polish of the wood. He turned when he heard his mother’s voice. The new tone surprised him. She swept across the room with her arms stretched before her, gesturing delicately. Nathan stepped back watching her. He felt a hurting swell in his chest that made him breathe faster in quick, sob-like breaths. He could smell the careful sweetness of her face powder as the smell filled the room and dried his mouth with the powdery dryness. His mother wore a gray-blue dress that seemed strangely festive to Nathan compared to the stark black ones she had worn since the day of his father’s funeral a week before. “Mother,” She (18) CROSBY patterns braided lie and Days shaded dud neat in spreads he said. turned, smiling of her hand back then she turned to the movers. Nathan watched her back as she spoke. The smoke-colored dress clung to her body at the shoulders. The slightly full skirt stretched across her back where the carelessness of age had broadened her figure. The loose skirt swirled at the hem around her legs where the skin showed cracks and lines. The men put the piano in the alcove. The faint light of sun behind clouds spread through the win- RUTHSTROM Sunlight gestured with the palm to him, at him, and (19) dows that inclosed the alcove, mak- ing a watery haze that gathered into darkness in the far corners. Nathan stepped toward his mother’s back as the moving men left the piano and moved from the room. His breath made sharp gasping sounds in the room. He pushed his tongue between his lips and touched the tip of it to a chapped patch of skin above his upper lip. His breath came in wheezing gasps. The taste in his mouth turned from the salty blandness of his breakfast eggs to a dry sourness. He jerked his head, forcing a strand of brown hair back off his forehead. Stepping forward another step, he slipped his tongue back, opened his mouth and spoke. “Mother,” he said. She whirled around, the skirt of her dress swishing about her legs. The smell of her face powder swept to Nathan with the breeze caused by her turning. She smiled. The graybrown hair at her temples moved up almost imperceptibly. She clasped her hands together palm flat against palm in front of her chin. “Yes, Life,” she said, her words buoyant and _ skybound as soon as she spoke them. Nathan hugged his hands together against his back. He reached out his tongue and touched the tip of it above his lip. “Oh my son, my life. Stop touch-