Margaret Foley tries to pack light when she travels, but she always ends up bringing one too many pairs of shoes. She currently lives in Portland, Oregon, where she is an editor at Oregon Home Magazine. Her writing has appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Science Monitor, Ilya’s Honey, and Opium Magazine. She would like to go back to India someday, but doesn’t feel the need to repeat a train trip she took in 1991 from Warsaw to Moscow in February in an unheated train compartment.
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More from The Journal
- Poetry
I have fallen in love with winter, /
with the day that ends at 3:45 in the afternoon. //
with the man striding along the path grasping /
a pink plastic bag that glows incandescent /
although it only contains dish soap /
and the cat food he carries home after work …
- Poetry
...you wonder again about the soul, /
Where it hides, where it ventures. /
There's always one you have to bring to oblivion...
- Poetry
I wanted to be gray-faced /
and hated by the Yankees /
in the suburbs past Carleton.
- Poetry
Once he’d made the long, impetuous trip, /
once we were there, evening air billowing my skirt /
over the Pacific, surf sweeping like brushes over drums, /
I knew we’d marry.
- Poetry
By Kris Spencer
I lived by a river with tides unresolved /
Under the house a sewer under a wooden board it ran /
Sometimes a tapping sometimes a hum in the night like a motor
- Poetry
By Christopher Chambers
and I dream of a young woman from Prague /
standing beside a red motorcycle as if so much /
depended upon it...
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