Flipper

by Austin Davis It’s almost too much— the way she holds my hand on raw December mornings even when her nails camouflage with the frost kissed grass. The sleeves slip from the dark blue sweater she wears of mine and her hands lose their fingers, evolving into little penguin flippers. The sweater is four sizes…

I wonder what you see…

#WonderFold is a monthly feature that includes a prompt-based writing challenge on the first Monday of every odd month, followed by the publication of a winning response the first Monday of the next month. INVITATION: All art grows out of paying attention: in sight, sound, scent, taste & touch. You are invited to craft a…

2017 Wrap-Up

A note from the Editor in Chief When I look back at everything Folded Word published this year, I can’t believe how far this press has come in nine years. From Jessie Carty’s 2008 launch of the YouTube zine Shape of a Box to the 2017 inclusion of The Book of Wishful Thinking and Water…

Bird House Blind

by M.R. Baird I dwell in a house that is not mine; milk snow, lake effect, eagle overhead flies on with outstretched wings, open eyed, above the blinds, my hands grasping, the cold, trees fall, weather comes in again. This house is full of birds landing, temporary stop, then go, look over me to the…

Evergreen

The tree had been caged in mesh at the garden centre, a small woman with a bright smile telling Louise she must water it and keep it away from radiators. Louise had looked at the way the tree, its branches free only seconds before, was constricted and held, and she felt a wave of guilt rush through her body. She could water it, of course, but keep it away from a radiator? Impossible in her flat.

After Rain

haiku by Gary Schroeder calligraphy by JS Graustein foreword by Joseph Hutchison ISBN 978-1-61019-240-8 Sustainable Edition: print $14 Accessible Edition ebook and Global Edition print TBA In this collection of 32 haiku presented in the Carolingian hand of JS Graustein, Gary Schroeder celebrates the intimacy of moments. In translating his observations into sensory-rich poems, Schroeder…

The Magic Rectangle

prose poems by Sandra S. McRae ISBN 978-1-61019-238-5 Sustainable Edition: print $14 Accessible Edition ebook and Global Edition  print TBA With seeming innocence, Sandra S. McRae asks us to “watch how plastic bags and straw wrappers can get caught in the eddy of a breeze,” but then demands “Justify your life” — allowing responses to…

The Great Shearwater

by Kelly R. Samuels Great as in large, larger than the greedy sparrow, flick of seed, and the mourning dove. Larger than the chickadee, white-capped, chipper. We’re speaking of birds, you and I — a kind of communion. Something that binds. How you learned their calls, their songs, as a girl. Would stop on the…

Everglades at Dusk

poem by John Grey Heron steps nimbly across a floating mangrove island of dangling roots and minnow cloisters, more blue in its wings than in the darkening sky. Swamp smells like a deer carcass in broth, seethes with heat and insects and a fading sun tangled in thick vine. By the old moss-eaten fishing shack,…

The Rehearsal

The rehearsal was her favourite bit. Sure, it was something special to be at the performance and see the polished final piece, but at the rehearsal she could experience the birth of it, see it take shape and grow into what it would become. Her words. The very words she’d laboured over and written down carefully, re-written a dozen times, being spoken, being performed, by an actual actor. It never lost its shine. It never got old.

Wonderfold Winners

a response to October’s #Wonderfold Prompt

We have two winners this month! Congratulations to Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian and Marinabita. Thank you to everyone who submitted, it’s always a pleasure getting to take the time to read these little masterpieces and it’s always difficult picking a winner. Enjoy these two wonderful pieces of literature and remember to submit to our next Wonderfold Prompt!

Learning from Snails

short story by Ute Carson My father was killed in World War II shortly before my birth. My mother remarried when I was four. An aunt stayed with me while the newlyweds went on their honeymoon. As soon as their coach departed I ran into our big, lush garden, sucking my thumb and crying. In…