Catina Bacote
A World of Tangled Vines, Falling Berries, Bruised Grapes, Rough Rinds, and Ripening Flesh
Mom cracks the packed dirt with a hand hoe and turns it over again and again. She works right through dinnertime and doesn’t come out of the yard when her arms start to ache and her knees stiffen. Above her, the sky closes up. The pace of Eastern Circle slows down. Kids stroll through the projects …