The Dove in the Belly
Contents (46)
- CONTENTS
- Homeless
- The Boardinghouse
- Ehringhaus
- Boxes
- After Dark
- Heart Line
- AUGUST
- SEPTEMBER
- OCTOBER
- NOVEMBER
- DECEMBER
- JANUARY
- FEBRUARY
- MARCH AND APRIL
- First Night
- Odd Job
- Ambiguous
- African Violet
- I, Claudius
- That Obscure Object
- Brainhead
- Architecture
- Long Distance
- Best of Times
- Turtletrack
- Hospital Bed
- Wife and Husband
- Nina
- An Elegy
- Fall
- JULY
- AUGUST
- SEPTEMBER
- OCTOBER
- Some Meetings
- Then in Rain
- Beat Duke
- He’s Not Here
- The Brooch
- Mrs. Delacy
- Minette
- One Sunset
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- SOME NOTES ON THIS BOOK’S PRODUCTION


Also by Jim Grimsley
Novels:
Forgiveness
Winter Birds
Comfort and Joy
Dream Boy
My Drowning
Kirith Kirin
Boulevard
The Ordinary
The Last Green Tree
Memoir:
How I Shed My Skin
Short Stories:
Jesus Is Sending You This Message
Plays:
Mr. Universe and Other Plays

This is an Arthur A. Levine book
Published by Levine Querido

www.levinequerido.com • [email protected]
Levine Querido is distributed by Chronicle Books, LLC
Text copyright © 2022 by Jim Grimsley
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-64614-131-9
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64614-149-4
Published May 2022
For Lynna Williams
CONTENTS
- Homeless
- The Boardinghouse
- Ehringhaus
- Boxes
- After Dark
- Heart Line
- First Night
- Odd Job
- Ambiguous
- African Violet
- I, Claudius
- That Obscure Object
- Brainhead
- Architecture
- Long Distance
- Best of Times
- Turtletrack
- Hospital Bed
- Wife and Husband
- Nina
- An Elegy
- Fall
- Some Meetings
- Then in Rain
- Beat Duke
- He’s Not Here
- The Brooch
- Mrs. Delacy
- Minette
- One Sunset
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
The whole of appearance is a toy. For this,
The dove in the belly builds his nest and coos …—Wallace Stevens
Homeless
OUT OF THE BLUE SHE CALLED. He had learned to dread news from his mother. There was always a crisis, a change, a sorrow, a complaint, a plea. The sound of her voice could bring an ache to his insides. He held the phone and watched the frame of the window, light and moody clouds, a few people hanging out on the long balconies of each floor of the dorm. They were watching the baseball game, the white-uniformed players on the green turf of the stadium just beyond the parking lot. He heard the snap of a bat as if it were next to his ear, a collective sound of consternation from the stands at commotion in the outfield. Caught. Out. He took a deep breath.
His mother’s voice had that edge of brightness that he knew to be brittle and feigned. She was as happy as a woman could be, she said. He could picture her sitting on the edge of the colonial rocking chair that she had bought from Furniture Fair in Goldsboro, where she lived now. The cushions were covered in a beige cloth printed with butter churns, milking stools, and washtubs. The chair made a creaking sound, its springs expanding and contracting as she moved restlessly back and forth; he could hear it, a sort of undertone to her words. She told him, in a rush, she was moving to Nevada next week and marrying a new husband.
“Oh, lord, it was like a miracle. I met him at the One Stop, you know, when I was working at the cash register—he was buying a pack of Pall Malls, my favorite cigarette. And I tell you what, a thrill ran through me like a bolt from heaven, it had to be a sign of true love. A person knows what true love feels like.” The wedding would be at a casino in Las Vegas in one of those fast-turnaround chapels, Ronny didn’t need to worry about being there.