thewritersfoundryreview

A Place Like Home

by Julia Wood I only wear them when Mum is out. After she leaves the house I wait at the foot of the stairs. I have to be sure she isn’t going to come back because she often forgets things, like her house keys or her purse. I hope she’s not going doo-lally like Granny.Continue reading “A Place Like Home”

Anthems For a Seventeen Year-Old Girl

after Broken Social Scene by Olivia Treynor The deer with one antler livestonight. In the green studded duskI ask the fog for oxygen. I’ve never been to a trailer park. I think god is a round thingI can fit in my mouth. My boy knows how to put things between teeth:gumsnarl, cheekbite, bonewhite.Digestion starts atContinue reading ” Anthems For a Seventeen Year-Old Girl“

Mona’s House

by Christy Prahl Jesus lived on candles in her living room.Baby with a man’s face, swaddled.Golden halo around the brown hair of a prophetlike the sun clock in the kitchenthat seemed to tick backwardsfrom the hour we could leave. We, my sister and I, feared the candlesand the woman who set them on firefor ourContinue reading “Mona’s House“

Cat and Pepper—spear

by Rebecca Thrush The mint on my sill bitesbrighter than the dirtCovered leaves off my mother’s pathwayShe never tends to theseplants but she tendsTo love the shimmering seathey yield in shades of greenAnd crystallized dropsof silt, overwhelming herBushy blues and muted mauves. Like memories of summers lostThese leaves are floodedwith once clear waterMuddied by yourContinue reading “Cat and Pepper—spear“

Murmur

by Michele Parker Randall River, when I meet you, I’ll askif the Spirit of God still hoversover. Omen. Symbol. A waypointed by starlings. And when I ask youfor a sign, I mean fool-proof plan.Itinerary. Sturnidae. From the skya cloud shaped like a talon. I search out birdsin poetry, street names, & logos.All, nothing. I interpretContinue reading “Murmur“

Commute

by Michele Parker Randall In the city of God does the sunrise lastall day? Bunched clouds stack a cityscapebacklit in hydrangea-bud & cinnamon,floribunda vapor hues like the queenconch’s inner lip, her cirrus-ruffle edge. Wecan all be found in the ombré of thatone shell. One sky reflects our facesin a twenty-four hour shot. Invisiblethis morning, IContinue reading “Commute“

Beirut, 1983

by Jak Emerson Kurdi My grandfather was killed youngby his ashtray lungs when my fatherand his brothers were each somewheredifferent on their trudge across the bridge between boy and man. With their bodiestethered to windsurfing sails, they yokedthe bucking Mediterranean and skippedalong the foam, chopping wildlyat the breeze to maneuver the wavesof grief, hoping theContinue reading “Beirut, 1983”

Love

after the OED by Despy Boutris You said it a month after we met.A week later, we talked about the word: how inexact the definition,how easily muddled. An abstract quality or principle. How easily applied to anything:you love rosemary, tulips, film. You love me. To hold dear. Love clarity,semantics, linguistics. Intense liking, concern, devotion. LoveContinue reading “Love”

Providence

by Jade Levine In another world, I would havestayed up drinking hot waterand eating dense cake. I wouldhave let someone else come sitnext to me in the kitchen. In this one I am dreaming ofboys from my past and how Idid not kiss them. Is my wantingso ungrateful? You have given me a love ofhousesContinue reading “Providence“

Blue Aster

by Isabella Cruz Stained glass in the windowNearly as brilliant asThe blue asters without. Still, it knows it’s pretendingTo be something it’s not. Still, it will last foreverPassed from your grandmother’s handTo your grandchild,Who never will see blue aster. Isabella Cruz is a writer, an educator and a Floridian. She currently works as a writingContinue reading “Blue Aster”