Grandmother
by Philip Matthews

in her vegetable
garden, tipping

the rusted pail:

well-water
spills

in the spring
leaves,

like broth
into green

bowls.

Over-filling:
water leaks

thru soil-
pores,

again
into stone

well where
it waits

for him, who
will not come

to shift the heavy
lid.  I clasp her

tissue-hand
in (was it?) prayer.




                 ____________________________


Philip Matthews is currently living in New Orleans, where he is a
poetry and piano student at Tulane University.  He is recently
published by the
Tulane Review and has work forthcoming in Left
Behind: A Journal of Shock Literature
.  He is originally from
eastern North Carolina.


On “Grandmother”:
During the poetry class I led last fall, I asked students to write a
poem based on any inanimate object.  I chose a watering can,
and from that simple image evolved “Grandmother”; it is written
in honor of mine, who took total care of my grandfather as his
Alzheimer’s worsened.  I still cannot move the stone lid of her well.


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Apple Valley Review:
A Journal of Contemporary
Literature
 

ISSN 1931-3888

Volume 3, Number 2
(Fall 2008)

Copyright © 2008
by Leah Browning, Editor.  

All future rights to material
published in the
Apple
Valley Review
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by the individual authors
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