Advertisement

Hot Tin Roof: One degree north


Hot Tin Roof
Hot Tin Roof is a program to showcase current literary work produced in Iowa City. The series is organized and juried by representatives of three Iowa City-based cultural advocacy organizations: The Englert Theatre, Iowa City UNESCO City of Literature and Little Village magazine.
By Haley Naughton

It’s always too hot and he carries on like it isn’t a problem but it is. The sun bakes black shadows, casting the shy likeness of each mangrove root as scribbles on the packed sand. He is there on the beach, covered in sunscreen and sweat, rifling through an ocean of plastic straws, condoms, netting, and bones. Across the barren wasteland of filth and neglect he tiptoes in the sand, stopping every once and a while to pick up a pollutant and place it in a big black trash bag.

“I’ve had it with all the women in this family, they’re too strong willed,” he says.

He thinks about what it would be like to be in the same room with them—his mom and his two sisters—and shakes his head. They forgave him because they had to, because it was eating them alive, he knew. But there was no way he was going to talk about it. Not in a million years.

Last week, he acted in a post-apocalyptic play in which he painted his face white and wore all white and talked about dancing bears and shivered in an overstuffed arm chair, as if overcome by a fear of water. The play was called At Least We’ve Got A Turkey and at the end he carved up the turkey, center stage. It was nothing more than a platter of bones.

Deep in the mangroves, he finds a dog. It might have been a dog. He plucks a sun-bleached vertebra from the pile and puts it in his pocket. The plastic mountain does not dwindle until months after he starts and he comes to the conclusion that if they were considering him at all, they were not considering him above their own emotions.

But he still misses them. He still misses them all.

 


 

Haley Naughton has, for some time now, been trying to lock down the onomatopoeia for that sound your teeth make when you clack your jaw, because it’s definitely not just clack.

This article was originally published in Little Village issue 175


Thoughts? Tips? A cute picture of a dog? Share them with LV » editor@littlevillagemag.com

Advertisement

World of Bikes presents:

KEEP ROLLING THROUGH THE WINTER

Come talk with our experts about ways to stay on the bike this winter! Find out more at World of Bikes.

Get Started

The Future is Unwritten

You look to Little Village for today’s stories. Your sustaining support will help us write tomorrow’s.

Regular

$10/mo or $120/year
(AUTO-RENEW)
The cost of doing this work really adds up! Your contribution at this level will cover telephone and internet expenses for one month at the LV editorial offices.

Italic

$20/mo or $240/year
(AUTO-RENEW)
$240 is enough to cover one month’s costs for sending out our weekly entertainment newsletter, The Weekender. Make a contribution at this level to put a little more oomph on your support and your weekend.

Bold

$30/mo or $360/year
(AUTO-RENEW)
LittleVillageMag.com connects eastern Iowa culture with the world. Your contribution at this level will cover the site’s hosting costs for three months. A bold move for our boldest supporters!

All monthly and annual contributors receive:

  • Recognition on our Supporters page (aliases welcome)
  • Exclusive early access when we release new half-price gift cards
  • Access to a secret Facebook group where you can connect with other supporters and discuss the latest news and upcoming events (and maybe swap pet pics?) with the LV staff
  • Invitations to periodic publisher chats (held virtually for now) to meet with Matt and give him a piece of your mind, ask your burning questions and hear more about the future plans for Little Village, Bread & Butter Magazine, Witching Hour Festival and our other endeavors.