Answer: While I am unsure as to who the 'His' in the question is, I can in fact tell you that Coerce means, to force someone/something to do something by using force. I can assume that the person the question is referring to's mind is being coerced because of a refusal of doing something. I'm hoping this helped you out a little! however i'm sorry i couldn't help you out more with the second part of the question! if you have any other questions I can certainly try to help you <3
Explanation:
A Raisin in the Sun portrays a few weeks in the life of the Youngers, an African-American family living on the South Side of Chicago in the 1950s. When the play opens, the Youngers are about to receive an insurance check for $10,000. This money comes from the deceased Mr. Younger’s life insurance policy.
Answer:
Independent clause because the last part of the sentence can be said on its own and be understood.
Dove-twirl in the tall grass. End-of-summer glaze next door On the gloves and split ends of the conked magnolia tree. Work sounds: truck back-up-beep, wood tin-hammer, cicada, fire horn
<span>A. Poetry of Place</span>
My birthplace vanished, my citizenship earned, in league with stones of the earth, Ienter, without retreat or help from history, the days of no day, my earth of no earth, I re-enter the city in which I love you. And I never believed that the multitude of dreams and many words were vain.
D. Poetry of Family
On the days when the rest have failed you, let this much be yours— flies, dust, an unnameable odor, the two waiting baskets: one for the lemons and passion, the other for all you have lost. Both empty, it will come to your shoulder, breathe slowly against your bare arm. If you offer it hay, it will eat. Offered nothing, it will stand as long as you ask. The little bells of the bridle will hang beside you quietly, in the heat and the tree's thin shade. Do not let its sparse mane deceive you, or the way the left ear swivels into dream. This too is a gift of the gods. Calm and complete.
B. Poetry of Spirit
When the black snake flashed onto the morning road, and the truck could not swerve— death, that is how it happens. Now he lies looped and useless as an old bicycle tire. I stop the car and carry him into the bushes.
C. Poetry of Nature
