Read the excerpt from "Parsley” by Rita Dove.The word the general’s chosen is parsley. . . . the general sees the fields of sugar cane, lashed by rain and streaming. He sees his mother’s smile, the teeth gnawed to arrowheads. He hears the Haitians sing without R’s as they swing the great machetes: Katalina, they sing, Katalina,mi madle, mi amol en muelte. God knows his mother was no stupid woman; she could roll an R like a queen. Even a parrot can roll an R!