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 are retained
by the individual authors
and artists.
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